


finger painted skies

by Rehearsal_Dweller



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Parent David Jacobs, Parent Jack Kelly, Single Dads AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28495911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller
Summary: A "We're both single parents and we met through our kids" AU!
Relationships: Buttons & David Jacobs, Crutchie & Jack Kelly, Crutchie/Albert DaSilva (Newsies), David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 231
Kudos: 153





	1. September

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my name is Finn and I have A Brand.
> 
> This is completely unconnected to the NMAU and its offshoots, it's totally new! I hope you guys like it, I'm really looking forward to it. First fic of the year!

“I’m _not_ going to be late,” Jack says, his phone pinned between his ear and his shoulder while he makes breakfast. “Charlie, when was the last time I was late for anything?”

_“You were almost forty minutes late to dinner at mom’s_ last night _, Jacky,”_ Charlie replies, his eye-roll almost audible through the phone.

“Yeah, fine, when was the last time I was late for something _for Liza?”_

There’s a long pause. “ _Yeah, alright, I’ll allow that.”_

Jack glances at the clock and throws a potholder at Eliza’s bedroom door. “Bets! Come on, kiddo, get moving!”

“ _Ten AM, Jack,”_ Charlie says again. “ _We’ll see you there.”_

“Yeah,” Jack replies absently. “Look, I gotta go do a second round of wakeup calls for the hibernating bear in the other room, so –“

“ _Right,”_ says Charlie. “ _See you soon, love you.”_

_“_ Love you, too, Chuck,” says Jack. He hangs up, tucking his phone into his pocket as he scoops the last pancake off of the griddle with his other hand.

He throws a tea towel over the stack of pancakes before moving toward his daughter’s room.

“Lizzie,” he calls. “Eliza Jane, there are pancakes.”

Eliza’s blanket is pulled away from her face just enough to reveal one sleepy eye. “Pancakes?”

“Pancakes,” Jack confirms. “But if you don’t get up and come to the kitchen in the next five minutes, I’m going to have to eat them by myself.”

Eliza’s blanket flips all the way down so Jack can see her whole face. “Nooo! Daddy, you can’t eat _all_ the pancakes.”

“I guess that means you gotta get up then, huh, baby bear?”

Eliza groans. “But _Daddy_ –“

“Nope, summer’s officially over, no more sleepin’ in, baby girl,” says Jack. “Come on, kiddo, up. Meet the teacher day! Aren’cha excited?”

“No,” Eliza whines. “Summer’s _over_.”

“Kindergarten, though, Betsy-bear!” Jack says. “And pancakes! Kindergarten pancakes!”

He scoops his daughter up out of bed, to halfhearted protests and giggles and squirming.

“Kindergarten pancakes wait for no sleepyheads,” Jack declares, plopping Eliza into her seat at the kitchen table and grabbing a plate of pancakes for her. “Syrup, Bets?”

“ _Duh_.”

“Elizabeth Jane,” Jack says sternly, picking up the syrup as he brings his own food to the table. “Do we wear sassy pants in this house?”

“ _No_ ,” says Eliza. “Sorry, Daddy.”

Jack pours out some syrup for her, not quite as much as she’d _like_ but that’s why Jack doesn’t let her do it herself. “Good girl.”

\--

“Dad!” Ben calls, tugging one of his socks on. “Dad, we’re gonna be late!”

“No, we are _not,”_ David replies, rounding the corner with Ben’s other sock and a pair of kindergartener sized sneakers.

“It’s almost nine-thirty,” says Ben.

“I should never have taught you how to read a clock,” says David. “We’re on time, Benny-bunny.”

Ben wrinkles his nose. “That’s a _baby_ name, Dad. I’m _five_.”

“And you’re still my baby,” David replies, unconcerned. “Come on, Buttons will be here any minute. Shoes on.”

“Buttons’s driving us?” says Ben. It’s almost, but not quite, a whine.

“And you thought we were going to be _late_ ,” David says with a laugh. “Does Buttons let us be late?”

“ _No_ ,” Ben concedes.

“And what do we call Buttons at school?”

Ben rolls his eyes. “ _Mr. Davenport_. I know, Dad.”

“What about me?”

“Mr. Jacobs,” Ben says, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“You got it,” says David, ruffling Ben’s hair.

“I’m glad you’re not my teacher, Dad,” says Ben.

“Yeah, well, not yet,” David replies. “It won’t be so bad, though. For now you get Buttons.”

“That might be worse,” Ben grumbles.

“Benji,” David says, kneeling in front of his son. “I need you to keep an open mind about this. I know you aren’t excited about being at our school, but it’ll be fun, okay? You’re barely going to see me around, and you’ll only have Buttons’s class twice a week.” He kisses Ben’s forehead. “Please be positive?”

“I’ll try,” says Ben, which is the best David is likely to get out of him.

David’s phone rings, and he shows Ben the caller ID – a photo of David, Ben, and Buttons smushed together so they all fit in frame, with _Buttons_ across the top over the answer/decline buttons. “Time to go.”

\--

Jack is five years younger than his oldest brother.

Charlie’s twins, Hunter and Emmy, are six weeks younger than Eliza.

(Racer, in the middle, is childless.)

“Hey, Chuck,” Jack says, walking up to his brother’s family outside the school, holding Eliza’s hand. “Albert.”

Charlie’s husband, currently being climbed by his children, waves.

“Uncle Jack!” Hunter and Emmy cheer, both dropping to the ground and running over.

“Hunter! Gatherer!” Jack says, wrapping an arm around them as they run full throttle into him.

He hears Charlie’s halfhearted, “ _Jack_ ,” at the nickname, which makes him chuckle.

“Hey, Liza,” Albert says, “you ready for kindergarten?”

“I’m _so_ ready, Uncle Al,” says Eliza.

“Let’s get goin’ then,” says Albert.

When the five of them reach Eliza’s kindergarten classroom, they separate. Eliza and the twins are in three separate classes, and Charlie is taking Hunter to his room while Albert takes Emmy to hers. The plan is to reconvene after teacher-meeting and then they’ll take the kids out for last-day-of-summer lunch.

Eliza’s teacher is a friendly looking man with round glasses that are so thick they visibly magnify his eyes. If Jack had to guess, he’s probably about Race’s age, a little older than Jack. There’s a younger woman in the room, too, who Jack figures is probably a teaching aid right out of college.

“Hey!” the teacher greets, waving. “I’m Mr. Shipton, this is our classroom aid Miss Smalls. What’s your name, bud?”

Eliza, rarely one for shyness, tucks herself behind Jack a little bit.

Jack nudges her forward. “C’mon, baby bear. You got this.”

“I’m Liza Kelly,” Eliza says quietly, still clinging pretty close to Jack.

“Nice to meet you, Liza,” says Mr. Shipton. He kneels down to look Eliza in the eye. “Can I show you where your chair is? And then you and your dad can make a nametag together for it.”

Eliza nods, pulling away from Jack and letting Mr. Shipton show her to one of the handful of tables surrounded by tiny chairs. Jack trails behind them, letting Eliza warm up to the room and her teacher.

“Once you and Dad here get your nametag finished, Miss Smalls can help you put it into your chair’s nametag pouch,” Mr. Shipton tells Eliza. “And then you can check out the room a little and start getting to know where everything is. Sound good?”

Eliza nods. “Sounds good.”

Mr. Shipton moves away, another family having come into the room, and Jack sits down next to Eliza at her chair. These little kindergartener butt sized chairs are honestly pushing it for his adult-sized person to sit on.

“Daddy,” Eliza says, “can you help me decorate it?”

“Sure, baby bear,” says Jack. “You’ve gotta write your name out first, though. Can you show me how to spell _Elizabeth_?”

Eliza wrinkles her nose. “Do I have to write ‘Lizbeth? I don’t wanna be _called_ ‘Lizbeth.”

Jack chuckles. “Let’s ask.” He waves to the teaching assistant. “Hey, Miss Smalls, is it okay if Liza writes her nickname on her nametag, or should we put down Elizabeth?”

“Write down whatever you want us to call you, hon,” Miss Smalls says, directing her answer to Eliza.

Eliza nods. “Okay. Thank you.”

In measured, childish writing, she sketches out a careful _E-l-i-z-a._ Then she pushes it toward Jack. “Would you please outline a teddy bear for me to color?”

Jack grins, pressing a kiss to Eliza’s temple. “Because of your nickname, Betsy-Bear?”

Eliza nods again.

Jack, who has not used crayons as his primary medium in quite some time, does his best.

Eliza, being five, does not care that it’s a little lopsided, accepting the returned nametag with an approving smile. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Anything for you, Bets,” says Jack.

When she’s done coloring, Miss Smalls tucks the tag into the back of her little chair cover, and the two of them start poking around the room.

The other family who’d come in just after them are crowded around a chair at the same table as Eliza’s.

“Hey, Lizzie,” Jack says, when it seems like they’re about done with her classmate’s nametag. “Wanna go say hi? Get a head start on making friends?”

Eliza nods, scurrying over to the other child as his parents stand up. “Hi! I’m Eliza Kelly and I sit right there!” She points. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Benji Jacobs,” the little boy replies, pushing his curls a little haphazardly away from his face. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Benji,” Eliza says politely.

Jack smiles at Benji’s parents. The taller of the two bears a striking resemblance to his son, with the same narrow face and faint freckles across the nose and cheeks. He’s got these _stunning_ blue eyes, too, which Jack is trying very hard not to get lost in.

“Hey, I’m Jack,” he says, offering a hand to Benji’s shorter parent.

“Benny,” the man replies, “this is David.”

“Nice to meet you, Davey,” Jack says with a grin, “Benny. And Benji, too, of course.”

Benji, who is now deep in conversation about something to do with stickers with Eliza, does not reply.

Davey nudges him. “Huh? Oh, hi.”

Jack laughs. “Hey, Betsy-Bear, we gotta get goin’. Char and Albert and the twins’ll be waitin’ for us.”

“Right,” says Eliza. “Bye, Benji. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Benji replies.

As they leave the classroom, Jack hugs Eliza to his side. “So, Liz, how you feelin’? Excited?”

“Yeah,” Eliza says, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’m _so_ excited, Daddy.”

“Excited enough to tell Uncle Race _all_ about it at lunch?”

“Uncle _Race_ is coming for lunch?”

“You betcha, but only if we get a move on. You know how impatient he is sometimes.”

Eliza drags Jack along by the hand toward the DaSilvas. “Let’s go, Dad!”

\--

David would be embarrassed to admit how long he stared after Eliza’s father – Jack, he’d called himself – feeling slightly haunted by those green-hazel eyes and that kind, crooked smile.

So he won’t admit it, although he can feel Buttons’s gaze on him, and he knows he doesn’t have to admit it for Buttons to know.

He busies himself by talking to Specs, Ben’s teacher, while Ben and Buttons poke around the room with the teaching assistant.

“I’m sorry in advance if he gives you any trouble,” David says, his hands tucked into his pockets. “He’s been kicking up a bit of a fuss over being at _our_ school, which is _fine_ as long as he’s only being a pain with me and Buttons, but if he’s difficult with you or Smalls just let me know, okay?”

“I’m sure he’ll be _fine_ , Dave,” Specs replies, patting David’s shoulder. “It’s kindergarten; I’ve had plenty of fussy kids before and I’ll have plenty of fussy kids again.”

“This is different, I don’t want _my_ kid giving you trouble.”

“It’s no different at all.” He holds up a hand to stop David protesting. “If it gets out of hand I’ll let you know. Or maybe I’ll tell Buttons, and he can manage it.”

“You don’t have to get Buttons involved,” David says halfheartedly, watching Buttons investigate the classroom library.

“Buttons is as close to a spouse as you’ve got, I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” Specs teases. He bumps his shoulder against David’s. “You brought him to meet the teacher day, Dave.”

“In fairness, we both had to be in the building anyway,” David says, with even less conviction. “We’re going up to our room after this in case anybody wants to meet some specials teachers for once.”

Specs laughs. “Good luck with that.”

“Yeah, I might play parent on Buttons just for fun, but I think Ben would melt into the floor from embarrassment, so it might not be worth it.”

“He’s not looking forward to being in Buttons’s class?”

“God, no. I think he’s dreading that more than the abstract idea of being in the same building as us.”

Specs laughs again. “Well, best of luck to the two of you on that front.”

David drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks, we’re gonna need it.”

The three of them troop up to the music room after Ben has had his fill of exploration of the kindergarten section B classroom, with Ben curling up in a nook near David’s desk while David and Buttons both get some last minute school year prep done. Their school has the funding to afford two music teachers (and two art teachers, and two gym teachers) so that they wouldn’t be spread too thin, and the kids could have as much time in their arts and physical education as possible. What their school does _not_ have, much to David’s occasional annoyance, is enough space for the two of them to each have their own classroom.

(Buttons likes to remind him, when he gets going on this, that the gym teachers have to share space, too. Buttons is well aware that sharing the _gym_ and sharing their dinky classroom with almost a third of its floor space taken up by risers is a very different thing, but he is nothing if not delighted by any opportunity to rile David up.)

Although, all things considered, if David has to share a classroom space, at least he shares with his best friend.

Well, one of his best friends.

The other of whom is –

“Jacobs! Davenport!”

Spot Conlon enters the music room with a bang, literally, because he’d thrown the door open so hard it crashed against the wall loudly.

“Hey, Spotty!” says Buttons. “How was your summer back home?”

“Gross, thanks for asking,” Spot replies, throwing himself carelessly onto Buttons’s storytelling chair. “I swear, every time I go back it’s more humid. Hey, Benji! You meet your teacher yet?”

Ben, five years old and incredibly dramatic, groans.

“The whale song means yes,” Buttons translates helpfully.

“Still not looking forward to having Buttons as a teacher, eh, buddy?”

“No.”

“It could be worse, right?”

“ _How_?”

“He could be your classroom teacher. You’ve got Mr. Shipton, right?”

Ben nods.

“He’s pretty cool, I think you’ll like him,” says Spot. He turns his attention back to Buttons and David. “You two had anybody come to meet you yet?”

“No,” says Buttons.

“Do we ever?” adds David.

Spot laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Lucky friggin’ ducks; you guys _never_ have to deal with parents.”

“That’s not true,” David says, throwing a crumpled ball of scrap paper at Spot. “ _Concerts_ , Spot. Buttons and I have concerts.”

“Sure,” says Spot. “Two nights a year.”

“And you can’t forget the yearly conference between David and the parents of whatever child has decided music isn’t worth handing in homework for,” Buttons adds. “My favorite day of the semester!”

“Has it really been so bad already, Spot?” asks David.

“Well, depends on how you look at it,” says Spot, leaning back in his chair. “Today, not especially. But the implications on the year aren’t great. You know the Gardener twins? Mike and Ike? Somehow they’re _both_ in my class.”

“Both of them?” David echoes.

“Both of them.”

“That’s going to be a nightmare,” Buttons says. He reaches over and drops a hand onto Spot’s shoulder. “You have my sympathy, pal.”

“You’re suffering with me,” Spot reminds him.

“They _like_ my class.”

“Dad?” Ben pipes up, hugging his coloring book to his chest. “Can we go home yet?”

“Two more hours, Benny-bunny,” David replies. “Do you need a different activity?”

Ben groans. “No, I’ll _color_. Other kids get to have fun on the last day before school, you know.”

“Is this not fun?” says David. “I’m having fun, Buttons, are you having fun?”

“So much fun, babe,” Buttons replies, grinning. “Spot, should you still be, like, classroom teacher-ing?”

“It’s _lunch_. We were going to go out for lunch, remember?”

“Right. Benji, looks like you’re getting your wish and we’re getting out of here for a bit anyway,” says David. “Where to, boys?”

\--

Eliza is settling into her new school routine nicely; last year she’d been half-day at preschool and had spent the rest of the day with Hunter and Emmy at the DaSilva house, since Charlie works from home.

And it’s not that Jack doesn’t appreciate Charlie looking out for her – he _does,_ he really does – but Jack is twenty-five, and he just –

He can take care of his own kid. He _can_.

So Eliza spends most afternoons in afterschool until Jack gets done with work and can come pick her up, except for Fridays when Race insists are Uncle-Niece bonding days, and he gets her at three to go on adventures (usually to a museum or a park or something).

It seems like Benji Jacobs is also a frequent afterschool attendee, if Eliza’s stories are anything to go by. The two of them seem to be getting along well, which Jack is grateful for. He’s glad Eliza is making friends outside of her cousins, for once.

“Daddy,” Eliza says one morning, kicking her feet aimlessly. She’s sitting on the kitchen table so that Jack can tie her hair bows for her, which she requested but is now squirming away from. “Can I have Benji over for a playdate?”

“Sure, Bear,” says Jack. “Do you think you can be responsible for a note for his parents? So I can get in touch and we can make a plan?”

Eliza rolls her eyes. “ _Yeah_ , Dad. I’m _so_ ‘sponsible.”

Jack chuckles. “I know you are, baby.”

“So ‘sponsible,” Eliza repeats, mostly to herself.

So Jack tucks a note for Benji’s dads into Eliza’s backpack before they leave for school, and she promises to pass it along to Benji to pass along to his parents. Jack figures this is something Eliza is more than capable of handling, because while she’s a bit on the forgetful side on the whole, she’s got a strong personal interest in this note getting where it’s going.

He needn’t have worried much, because around five he’s got a text from an unknown number:

_Hey, this is David Jacobs. I hear our kids want a playdate._

_Also, you know the school has a directory, right?_

Jack snorts. He adds the number, because he’s got a feeling this won’t be the last time he and Davey are in touch.

_Me: I thought this would be more personal_

_Me: And also didn’t really think it through_

_Davey: oh my god, that was weirdly aggressive I’m so sorry_

_Me: lol it’s fine, don’t worry about it._

_Davey: sorry again_

_Me: does Saturday work for Benji to come over?_

_Davey: Yeah, sounds great._

Awesome, great.

Now Jack just has to clean the house.

\--

David is a little nervous about sending Ben over for a playdate with his school friend. He’s not their teacher _yet_ , but he _will be_ , and what if that’s weird? And Buttons _is_ their teacher, but he’s picking Ben up so that David has time to drive out to pick Les up for a few days’ visit while Ben’s at the Kelly house.

But it’s fine, right?

It’s probably fine.

David just won’t be _hosting_ any playdates any time soon and _will_ be hoping that Ben doesn’t grow up hating him forever because his friends never come over to the house.

David walks Ben to the door, and they stand there, side-by-side, waiting for a response to the rung doorbell.

There’s a sound like a small rumble of thunder then a sliding crash on the other side of the door, slightly muffled.

Then, quieter, “ _I’m okay!”_

David lets out a soft laugh at that.

The front door opens, revealing a breathless Liza being carried on her father’s hip.

“Benji!” Liza squeals.

“Liza!” Ben replies with equal enthusiasm.

Liza squirms out of Jack’s arms. “Let’s go, Ben!”

“Hey, hey,” says David, dropping to one knee next to Ben. “I love you, Ben. Remember –“

“Buttons is picking me up,” Ben says, nodding. “I know, Dad.” He gives David a quick hug. “I love you, too. Can I play with Liza now?”

David laughs. “Yeah, kiddo. Go ahead.”

He straightens up as the kids run past Jack into the house.

“Bets, you could’ve at least said _hi_ to Mr. Jacobs,” Jack calls ineffectively after his daughter.

“Don’t worry about it,” says David, smiling. “I’m just glad they’re having fun.”

“I promise I’m raising a polite child,” Jack says. He’s got a crooked half smile on, though, looking amused. “I promise.”

“I can’t promise that,” David replies. “I’m sorry.”

“He can’t be any worse than Liz,” Jack says with a wink. “So five, right?”

“Yes, five,” says David. “It won’t be me, though, Benny’s coming for him.”

“Right, cool,” Jack says. “I’ve got a feelin’ this won’t be the last time I see you, though, based on how much Liza talks about Benji.”

“I get that impression, too,” says David. And then, because Jack is smiling at him in a way that is making David’s heart stutter in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time, he adds, “I don’t think I’ll mind.”

Jack’s grin widens. “Neither will I. See you around, Davey.”

“See you, Jack.”


	2. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Sprace, pumpkin picking, and some sad stuff. 
> 
> I'm so thrilled by how excited you guys are about this story! I'm super enthused about it and it's so cool that you guys are too!

Spot walks purposefully into the music classroom and sits down in Ben’s little reading nook near David’s desk.

“Dave,” he says seriously, which is a hard thing to do while sitting on a lime green bean bag chair on the floor. “You’re friends with Elizabeth Kelly’s dad, right?”

“Yeah,” David says, nodding. “Liza’s Ben’s best friend, so – yeah.”

It’s almost November, now, and David and Jack are in sporadic contact mostly to make plans for the kids. David’s taken the two of them out on little adventures a few times, and they’ve had a handful of playdates at the Kelly house. In the process, he’s starting to get to know Jack a little better, too. He’s hoping to get to be actual friends with Jack sometime; the kids get on like a house on fire, and it would be nice to have another single dad to talk to.

(Also, he’s really attractive. He makes David go all fluttery and tongue-tied, and David is maybe almost actually ready to start feeling things like that again.)

“Do you know who the guy who picks her up on Fridays is?” Spot asks. “Because he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”

David laughs. “He’s Jack’s older brother. He’s got some weird nickname like you, uh – Race, I think?”

“Is he single?”

“God, I don’t know,” says David. “You want me to ask?”

“No, no, don’t,” says Spot, waving him off. “That would be, like, super weird. I’ll just keep enjoying his face from afar.”

David rolls his eyes. “Whatever floats your boat, man.”

He texts Jack anyway. It’s the first time he’s reached out over something not to do with the kids; maybe it’ll lead to more non-playdate related conversations in the future.

_Me: Hey, is your brother Race single?_

_Me: and, like, into men?_

_Jack: yes, very. why?_

_Me: my friend who does dismissal on Fridays is swooning over him_

_Jack: …_

_Jack: not the short guy with the dark hair, is it?_

_Me: you’re kidding right_

_Jack: race won’t fuckin shut up about him_

_Me: I’m gonna need your brother’s number._

David takes a screenshot of the exchange and sends it to Buttons, who’s taken his first graders out onto the playground to play a rhythm game. He knows he’ll get a kick out of it.

“It’s official, I’m setting you up with Jack’s brother,” David says to Spot, who’s still curled up on his lime green beanbag chair.

“What?” says Spot, sitting up. “No!”

“Why?” says David. “ _Why_.”

“It’s better just to drool over him from a distance, Dave,” Spot says. “I’ve never met the guy, we could be completely incompatible.”

“That’s what first dates are _for_.”

“He’s related to a student.”

“ _I’m_ related to a student.” David twists a curl just below his ear around his finger. “He’s not Liza’s parent and Liza’s not even in your class. It’s _fine_.” He throws an eraser at Spot. “You need to get out more, anyway.”

“I get out _plenty_ ,” Spot says, offended.

“Spot,” David says seriously. “Sean. _Seanathan.”_

“That’s not my name.”

“I don’t care,” David says, waving him off. “I say this as your friend, and as someone who has seen the disaster-slash-shrine to your classroom that is your apartment. _Live_ a little.”

Spot stares at David for a long moment. “Screw it. Fine. Set me up.”

\--

“And you know how to get there?”

“You know I do.”

“I just worry, Jacky –“

“Charlie,” Jack interrupts, willing his voice to stay even. “I’ve been doing this a while, you know.”

“I know,” says Charlie. He shifts his weight more fully over his good leg, frowning at Jack.

“Exactly as long as you have, if I remember correctly.”

“Jacky –“

“We’re going to be late,” Jack says, stepping back.

“You know I’m just looking out for you, don’t you, Jack?”

“I’m not five years old anymore, Char,” says Jack, shaking his head. “You don’t have to hold my hand when we cross the street. We do this _every year_ ; I can get myself and Liza to the pumpkin patch in one piece.”

Later, Jack will regret how sharply this comes out.

Later, he’ll linger on the way Charlie’s face falls, the crease deepening between his eyebrows.

Right now, Jack’s too frustrated to care.

“Are you on Race like this?”

“Race is different,” says Charlie. “He doesn’t need –“

“I don’t need it either, Charlie!” Jack snaps. “I don’t.”

Charlie hums. “I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“Well, I can take care of myself,” says Jack, “and I can take care of Eliza.”

“I know you can, Jack.”

Jack shrugs, unwilling to carry on the conversation any longer. “We have to _go_ , Char. Mama’s gonna be waiting.”

And then he walks away.

\--

David tries to keep up a number of different little traditions. And the thing is, he knows, Ben doesn’t remember where the traditions came from. But David keeps them up anyway.

Which is why he and Ben and Buttons are at a pumpkin patch, braving a biting late October chill for apple picking and pumpkin selecting.

(Buttons is here for moral support, for one thing. Buttons is always here for moral support, because David is a goddamn disaster. But he’s also here because this is a tradition that predates Ben, although back then – well, back then things were different.)

They’ve left it late this year, because David is nothing if not chronically late. Buttons does his best to help, but Buttons doesn’t live with them and David is –

David is Fine.

So it’s, like, October 27th and all of the best pumpkins are probably gone but here they are, bundled into sweaters and looking forward to the promise of hot apple cider at the end of the adventure.

David and Ben are debating whether or not Ben’s choice of pumpkin is a wise one – it isn’t, the thing is half as tall as Ben is, and the rule is that Ben has to be able to carry it himself – when a small body hits David’s back at a run.

“Oh my god,” a familiar adult voice says. “I am so sorry, oh my god. Emma Harper DaSilva, _apologize.”_

David turns, and sure enough there is Jack Kelly, walking toward him with an apologetic expression.

“Oh,” says Jack.

“Hi,” David says, suppressing a laugh.

“ _Emmy_ ,” Jack says, his attention on the child who’d run into David again. She looks about the same age as Ben and Liza, to David’s eye, with flaming red hair pulled into ringlet-curled pigtails.

“Sorry, mister,” Emmy says, scurrying back toward Jack.

“Why’d you run off, Emmy?” Jack asks her, dropping to one knee to frown at her.

“I found a good one,” Emmy tells him. She points at a pumpkin two down from the one Ben is campaigning for.

Jack sighs. “You _know_ it’s hard for your daddy to keep up with you in the mud, Gath. You can’t go running off.”

“I know.” Emmy has the good grace to look somewhat apologetic.

“That one’s too big, anyway,” says Jack. “Do you think you can carry that one? It’s almost as big as you are!”

“I could,” Emmy insists.

“Funny,” says David. “I was just having that same conversation with Ben.”

Jack straightens up, laughing.

“You could _help_ , Dad,” Ben pipes in.

“No,” David says.

“Oh,” says Emmy. “Hi, Benji.”

“Hi, Emmy,” says Ben. “Are Liza and Hunter here, too?”

Emmy waves back in the direction she and Jack had come from. “Down that way with my dads and Uncle Race and Gram.”

“S’cool you guys all came together,” says Ben.

“You three could join us,” Jack says, tucking one hand into his pocket. The other is resting on Emmy’s shoulder. “We’re probably heading back to the front soon; I hear they have hot cider.”

“We wouldn’t want to intrude,” says David. And anyway, Buttons is here, and that could be weird.

“You wouldn’t be, I promise,” Jack replies, grinning at David.

“Please, Dad?”

David turns to Buttons, putting a hand on his arm. “Up to you, Benny. They’re your students.”

Buttons shrugs. “Hey, I’m down if you’re down, babe.”

David looks back at Jack, who looks – it’s hard to put a finger on it, but for a fraction of a second he looks almost _disappointed?_ Before perking up into that lopsided grin that makes David’s heart do stupid things.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah,” says David, “why not?”

So the three of them follow a few steps behind as Jack and Emmy walk back to their family.

“We found some friends,” Jack says to the group when they’re closer.

Liza and the other little boy, who must be Emmy’s brother Hunter if the fiery curls are any indication, both light up at the sight of Ben, which warms David’s heart a little. Hunter, after a moment, looks up at David and Buttons.

“Ben, why’d’ja bring Mr. Jacobs and Mr. Davenport to the punkin patch?” he says.

Ben snorts. “Mr. Jacobs is my _dad_ , Hunter.”

“So why’ja bring Mr. Davenport?”

Ben shrugs. “We always bring Buttons.”

“I’m David,” David says to the adults, “this is my – Benny. We both teach at the school. Music.”

“Nice to meet you,” says the red haired man who _must_ be one of Hunter and Emmy’s fathers. “I’m Al DaSilva.”

“Charlie DaSilva,” the man next to him says with a nod. “Jack’s brother.”

“I’m Race,” says the third man, and yeah, David can kind of see the appeal. If he weren’t already kind of hung up on Jack (and if the idea of getting together with someone blond again didn’t make his stomach knot up with guilt), Spot might have some competition for catching this guy’s eye.

“And our mom,” Jack says, nodding toward her. “Medda.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you and your little boy,” Medda says, smiling warmly at David. “It’s good to know that Liza’s got such a good friend in Benji.”

“I’m glad Ben’s got Liza, too,” David says sincerely. The kids are deep in a debate over which pumpkins to pick, and David can’t help smiling.

It’s cute, but more than that, it’s just nice to see Ben having fun and being a regular, happy kid.

\--

Jack is glad the Jacobses – and Benny – decide to join them for the rest of the afternoon. For one, it’s fun. The kids are clearly having a blast.

(It’s remarkable how easy it is to please them sometimes; sure, they see each other at school every day, but suddenly they’re _not_ at school, and that makes seeing each other the coolest thing in the world.)

For another, Jack is deeply, deeply grateful for the break it gives him from Charlie’s fussing. Charlie is well meaning, he always has been, but he’s got it in his head that Jack still needs looking after, and no matter what he does, Jack can’t dislodge the notion from his head.

And, well – Jack _likes_ Davey. It’s nice to have a dad friend who isn’t his overprotective brother or his overprotective brother’s husband, especially since Davey is a little closer to Jack’s own age. Not quite _so_ young as Jack, but a little closer. Jack can tell without really discussing it that Davey understands the feeling of being the youngest parent in the room, of being – whatever Jack may say to Charlie – a little out of his depth.

Davey’s also awful nice to look at, with those clear, gorgeous blue eyes that always seem to pierce right through Jack. Jack feels a little bad any time he thinks about that bit, though, because even though he’s pretty sure (now) that Davey and Benny aren’t married, they’ve definitely got something going on, and Jack’s not the kinda guy to go falling for somebody so obviously spoken for.

Not that he’s falling.

That afternoon is the longest Jack’s actually talked to Davey in person all in one go – usually it’s all over text, or at the beginnings and ends of playdates when they’re handing off the kids. It’s _great_.

The longer he talks to Davey, the surer Jack is that they need to be actual friends. He’s almost as disappointed as the kids are when they have to go their separate ways at the end of the day.

Well. Not _that_ disappointed, that would be a lot for an adult. But he’s definitely disappointed.

And, if he’s reading the look on Davey’s face right, Davey’s disappointed to say goodbye, too.

“I can’t believe we got to see Mr. Davenport outside school,” Hunter says as they all walk back to the car, having already split off from the Jacobses who are parked in the other lot.

“He picks Benji up from our house sometimes,” Eliza says, shrugging. “It’s not that cool.”

Jack laughs. “Teachers are people too, you know, Hunter. They need pumpkins for Halloween just like the rest of us.”

Hunter hums, sounding unconvinced. “If you say so, Uncle Jack.”

\--

A few days after the pumpkin patch visit, David is reading in his living room when he hears soft sounds from Ben’s bedroom.

It’s eight thirty, and Ben should’ve been asleep a while ago. It’s a school night.

David closes his book, tucking a bookmark in to save his place and setting it aside. He tries to be quiet as he walks down the hall to Ben’s room, trying to figure out what exactly it is he’s hearing.

When he figures it out, for just a moment he stops dead.

Ben is crying.

Ben doesn’t cry much, as a rule. He’s never been the kind of kid to get super worked up over anything, even the day last year when he scraped his knee and it bled so much before David could manage it his sock was bloody he’d mostly been pretty calm.

David isn’t sure exactly what to expect, but he’s concerned.

He taps gently on the door as he opens it. “Benji? Are you okay?”

Ben takes a gasping, sniffling breath. “I had a bad dream. I want Mommy.”

David’s heart stops. He takes a slow breath, steadying himself, before moving into the room.

“Mommy’s not here, Ben,” David says softly. “Can I help?”

“ _No_ ,” says Ben. He wriggles under his blankets, pulling the comforter over his head.

David sits down on the edge of his little bed, willing himself not to start crying too. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“I want Mommy,” Ben repeats quietly. It’s muffled, like he’s speaking into his pillow or teddy bear.

“I know,” says David. “I know. I want Mommy, too. Is the problem that you miss Mommy, or is that extra?”

“Extra,” mumbles Ben.

“Do you want to talk about your dream?”

There’s a movement from under Ben’s covers that looks like it might be a head shake.

“Is that a no?”

“No.”

“Do you want a hug?”

Ben’s little face pokes out from under his blanket, streaked with tears. He nods.

David pulls the covers back, gathering Ben up into his arms and pulling him onto his lap. Ben curls up, his hand gripping the front of David’s shirt tightly. David rocks him gently, rubbing little circles on his back with one hand.

(Tries, desperately, to remember what Jess used to do when Ben had nightmares. She was so much better at this than he is.)

“I was lost,” Ben says eventually, mostly into David’s shirt. “I was lost, and then Buttons found me, but he said you were gone forever like Mommy and I had to live with him in the music room.”

“That sounds scary,” David says sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Benny-bunny.”

“It _was_ scary.”

“It’s good that you know even in your scary dreams that Buttons will always take care of you if I’m not here, though,” says David.

“You’re not going to go away, are you?” says Ben. He tips his head back to look up at David.

“No, no,” says David. “Of course not. As long as I can be here for you, I will be.”

He can’t make any solid promises, but now isn’t the time to say that.

“And so will Buttons,” he says instead. “Always.”

“I know.”

“Good,” says David. He kisses Ben’s forehead. “I love you, Ben.”

“I love you, Daddy,” Ben says sleepily.

David holds Ben until he’s sure that he’s fallen back asleep, occasionally wiping away the last few tears still falling. Once Ben is sleeping again, David tucks him back into his bed, and makes for the living room.

He tries to go back to his book.

It’s too hard to concentrate, his eyes inevitably sliding up the page to the photo on the bookshelf beyond it, the one Buttons took at Ben’s first birthday of him and Ben and Jess right after Ben absolutely _destroyed_ his cupcake. They’re all smudged with icing and laughing.

David sets his book down, reaching for his phone instead. He doesn’t look too closely at who he’s texting, not caring whether he gets Buttons or Sarah or Spot right now –

_Ben just woke up crying for Jess for the first time in months. I don’t know what to do with myself._

\- and it’s not until the response comes in that he realizes he _didn’t_ text Buttons. Or Sarah. Or Spot.

_Jack: Who’s Jess?_


	3. November

David’s breath catches in his chest. _Shit_.

_Me: I’m sorry, that was meant for Buttons._

_Jack: hey, no worries. Happens to the best of us._

_Jack: Are you okay, though?_

David is pretty not okay, actually. But he’s not sure he and Jack are at a place as friends where he can just _say_ that.

Still –

_Me: Just shaken. Jess was my wife; she died almost two years ago._

_Me: Ben doesn’t remember her well; he doesn’t ask for her often._

_Jack: Shit, Dave. Are you okay? For real._

_Me: Yeah. Don’t worry about it._

There’s a long pause, and David wonders if that’s going to be the end of the conversation. Maybe the end of the tentative friendship he and Jack have started forming, having gone too far too soon in spilling his tragic backstory, as Buttons sometimes calls it when he’s trying to make David smile.

David is about to put his phone aside, or maybe call his sister and cry for a while, when another text comes in from Jack.

_Jack: I know we’re not super close, but if you ever want to talk I’m around. Liza asks about her mom every few months and it throws me for a loop every fucking time. It’s not the same at all, but like. It’s probably closer than a lot of people understand._

_Me: That might be nice._

David _does_ throw his phone aside, now, and gives up on reading entirely for the night. He gives up on the night entirely, actually, and throws himself into bed fully dressed. He lies awake for a long time before he finally falls asleep, rolled fully onto the wrong side of the bed.

\--

Jack isn’t sure what made him say it. Because it’s _not_ the same, really, not at all – Eliza asks because she’s curious, because she knows in theory that there’s somebody else out there who contributed to her genes, not because there’s someone she _knows_ and _misses_ absent from her life. But still –

Jack can sympathize. His own mother died when he was a little younger than Benji is now, and he remembers the aching feeling of loss, remembers curling up in 10-year-old Charlie’s bed after waking up in tears. He can imagine what it must feel like to be Davey, feeling the loss of his wife himself but still having to comfort Benji through it.

He’s not sure Davey will ever take him up on the offer, but he’s glad he put it out there.

Somewhat guiltily, he’s also glad to have the insight into Davey’s situation this revelation has given him – if Jess’s death is that recent, Davey’s odd hesitance when referring to Benny makes a little more sense. Jack would put money on the two of them being old, old friends, if the ease Benny handles Benji with and the fact that Benji seems to be named after Benny are any indication, but it seems like things have changed fairly recently. Davey’s wife dying and Benny stepping up to help him in the aftermath fits that.

(Maybe, if that’s the case, there _isn’t_ anything romantic going on between them. Which, given the way Jack’s heart has taken to speeding up in Davey’s presence, would be good for him. Although from what he’s seen he’d be shocked if – even if Benny & Davey aren’t involved that way yet – they weren’t heading in that direction, which would _not_ be as good for Jack. Not that Jack needs to be getting involved with anybody anyway.)

Davey doesn’t say anything else, and Jack doesn’t either.

Jack’s made his offer. It’s Davey’s move now; he can take it or leave it. They don’t really have the kind of relationship where you go opening up about that kind of trauma anyway so Jack wouldn’t be surprised if this is the last they ever discuss it.

For better or worse, Jack is interrupted from this line of thought by a well-timed phone call from Race.

“Hey, Racer, what’s up?”

_“I’ve got a date on Friday,”_ Race says. “ _With that cute teacher from Lizzie’s school.”_

“Good for you,” says Jack, resisting the urge to chuckle. “Why’re you calling me?”

Race makes an indistinct, annoyed sound. “ _I’m nervous, and you_ know _I can’t call Charlie about this shit. Completely aside from the fact he ain’t been on a date in like a hundred years, he gets so – so. You know.”_

Charlie has always been protective over his little brothers, always. But ever since things went south with Liza’s mom, leaving Jack barely twenty years old and taking care of a newborn by himself, Charlie has been _incredibly_ suspicious of anyone either of them has tried to date.

“Yeah, I know.” Jack pins his phone between his shoulder and his ear, reaching for the sketchbook he’d been doodling in before Davey’s text came in. “Why’re you nervous? Seems like this guy’s into you.”

_“So says Davey,”_ says Race. _“I like him, by the way. S’good for you to have dad friends ‘sides Char and Albo. Anyway, yeah, Davey says Spot thinks I’m hot, but like. What if that’s the end of the line, attraction wise? I’m not exactly a catch.”_

“Who told you that?” says Jack.

“ _The last three guys I’ve been out with,”_ Race replies, “ _and Albert, but I think he was joking. Charlie gave him what for for sayin’ it.”_

_“_ He was right to,” Jack says. He’s fully gearing into _hype Racer up_ mode. It’s like being in high school again. “Race, man, you’re _great_. You’re so fuckin’ smart and you’re funny as hell and you _know_ this Spot guy thinks you’re hot. He’s _lucky_ you’re into him, too.”

“ _Thanks, Jacky,”_ says Race. _“I really needed to hear that_.”

“Don’t you have friends for that kinda shit?” says Jack, but he’s touched to know that he’s the person his brother would choose to help him feel better about himself.

“ _Yeah,”_ Race says, and Jack can almost hear him shrugging. “ _But I’d rather talk to you. And my second choice would be Albert, anyway, but we both know Al can’t be trusted not to spill to Charlie, and I don’t want Char to know until I know this is gonna go somewhere.”_

“Fair enough,” says Jack. Albert is Race’s best friend, but he’s also married to Charlie and can’t keep a secret from him to save his goddamn life. Not an ideal choice to talk to about a date. “If you want, I can meet you at your place to pick up Liza instead of you bringin’ her here this week, I can help you get ready or whatever.”

Race laughs. “ _What, like teenage girls?”_

“Sure,” Jack replies, chuckling.

“ _That’d be nice, actually,”_ Race says. “ _See you then?”_

_“_ For sure, Racer,” says Jack. “Love you.”

_“Love you, too, Jacky.”_

\--

David wakes up late the next morning, owing to the fact that he didn’t set an alarm and fell asleep an emotional wreck. Also, his natural tendency is to oversleep, though he’s usually pretty good at working around it.

There’s noise coming from the kitchen, which is concerning because Ben can’t reach most of what he usually wants without help or climbing onto things. And given that David is currently sitting on the foot of his bed, commotion in the kitchen almost certainly involves Ben climbing onto things.

David, a little stiff and very aware that he slept in jeans last night, makes his way out of his bedroom.

“Oh, hey babe,” Buttons says, looking up from the stove as David walks into the kitchen.

“What are you doing here?” David asks, brow furrowed.

“I’ve texted you, like, five times since eight last night and you haven’t responded,” says Buttons. “I figured you were sick or something, so I came over to pick Ben up for school.”

“I’m not sick,” David says.

“Well, you look like shit,” Buttons replies. “What happened?”

Right, because David didn’t actually tell him last night like he’d meant to.

“Ben had a nightmare,” David says softly. “Woke up crying for Jessie.”

“Oh, David,” says Buttons.

David shrugs, not meeting his eye. “It’s fine, Benny. I’m fine, we’re fine.”

“Dave,” Buttons says again. “You don’t – you don’t _have_ to be okay. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I tried,” David admits. “I accidentally texted… someone else. Who was higher on my recent messages than I would’ve expected, I guess.”

“Wait, who?”

“Jack Kelly.”

Buttons frowns. “Yikes.”

“It was fine,” David says. He’s perfectly aware of the number of times he’s used the word _fine_ in this conversation without the look Buttons gives him, thank you very much. “He was – kind.”

“Good, that’s good,” says Buttons. “I’m gonna hug you now, okay?”

David nods. Buttons pulls him into a tight hug, his arms locked around David’s waist. David rests his forehead against Buttons’s shoulder, trying not to start crying again.

“Dad?” Ben’s sleepy voice calls. “Can I have waffles?”

Buttons steps back from David, after giving him one last squeeze. “Too late, Bunny! Pancakes are already started!”

“Buttons?” Ben says, wandering into the kitchen. “What are you doin’ here?”

“I promised your daddy pancakes yesterday, Bunny-boo,” Buttons lies easily. “Didn’t he tell you?”

Ben shakes his head, frowning faintly.

“Well, I did,” says Buttons. “And the three of us are gonna drive to school together. That sound like fun?”

“We are?” David asks quietly.

Buttons shoots him a _don’t ask stupid questions_ look.

“That’s okay I guess. Pancakes?” says Ben, peeking over at the stove.

“Pancakes!” says Buttons.

\--

_Me: I have spent an hour hyping my big bro up for this fucking date_

_Me: this Spot guy better be worth it, Dave_

_Davey: he’s worth it._

For all that he knows that Davey and Spot are pretty good friends, Jack’s a little surprised by how quickly Davey responds. It’s late, at least as far as the lives of parents of five-year-olds experience lateness. It genuinely makes Jack feel better about the whole thing.

_Me: I’m trusting you davey_

_Davey: hey I’m trusting you too_

_Davey: Spot has spent every free moment in my classroom this week your brother better be everything you’ve hyped him up to be_

_Me: hey we larkin boys are all gems_

_Davey: larkin?_

Jack taps his phone case with his fingernails, surprised. Has this really not come up yet? He calls his brothers that all the time.

_Me: mama’s name. easier than tryin to hyphenate all the time._

_Davey: gotcha._

_Me: technically racer’s a higgins but we don’t hold it against him_

_Me: none of us have mom’s name. char and I were both kellys b4 char married albert_

_Me: wait shit that reminds me if you run into char and al do NOT mention that race went out w your friend_

_Davey: wait why??_

_Me: char is v anti baby brothers dating which is prob mostly my fault for obvious reasons_

_Davey: call me dumb but I’m not sure why that’s obvious_

_Me: well. Bets didn’t come from nowhere yknow._

_Davey: what, he disapproves of you raising a kid? That doesn’t really align with the impression I have of him._

_Me: No, it’s_

_Me: he never liked liz’s mom you know. and it just turned into this thing about how he was right all along when she left me and race and I should trust his judgement more. Like her leaving me was because SHE was the problem._

_Davey: Jack._

Shit, okay. That was more than Jack really meant to say, but something about Davey just makes Jack want to spill his guts. He trusts Davey.

Still, he didn’t mean to say that.

_Me: anyway he’s real protective, so racer doesn’t want him to know till he knows it’s going somewhere_

There’s a long, long pause.

_Davey: My big sister is the same way. Took her ages to warm up to Jessie._

Jack breathes again. He doesn’t really have the energy to defend or pick apart the self-esteem issues that always drag themselves to the surface when he thinks about dating.

_Me: hey, is Benji free to come over tomorrow? Liza’s been begging to have him over again_

_Davey: yeah :) 3 work?_

_Me: for sure. Send him in something you don’t mind getting covered in paint._

_\--_

“Oh, hey, Davey!” Jack says, opening the door. “You’re back, uh,” he checks his watch, “exactly on time, we’re just not done, I guess.”

David laughs. “Don’t let me rush you.”

“Come in,” says Jack, stepping aside. “The kids are both still elbow deep in their project, it’s gonna be a while.”

David follows Jack into the house, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that he’s never been inside here before.

A painting on the wall catches his eye as they walk through toward the sounds of laughing children – two paintings, actually. One is a _stunning_ landscape, clearly done by an a professional. A sweeping sunset over a desert. It takes David’s breath away.

Next to it, framed with just as much importance, is a childish, clumsy version of the same golden pink sunset, a messy, finger painted sky on printer paper. In careful writing in the corner, it’s labeled _Eliza, age 3_. It’s so sweet that it catches David’s breath in a whole different way.

“Where did you get this painting?” David asks, lingering by the larger of the two, transfixed.

Jack rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Oh, I – I did it. Betsy did hers at the same time, actually.”

“You painted this?”

“Yeah.”

“Jack, that’s incredible,” David says sincerely. “This is – wow.”

“It’s just a bunch’a clouds,” says Jack. “I did it to keep Bets entertained, really.”

“They’re a sweet pair of paintings,” says David. “But you’ve got real talent, Jack. This is really something.”

“I – thanks, Davey,” Jack says. He tucks his hands into his pockets. “It’s just a hobby.”

“A hobby you’re good at,” David insists. “Own it.”

“Thanks,” Jack repeats. He opens his mouth to say something else, but he’s interrupted by a child’s voice.

“Oops! Uh, daddy?” Liza calls. “We spilled the green.”

“Shit,” Jack says quietly. He chuckles. “They spilled the green.”

“We’d better go help,” says David.

For a moment, they still stay frozen in this odd little moment anyway.

“ _Daaaaad_ ,” Liza calls again. “Benji is green.”

David snorts. “I guess Benji is green. We should intervene.”

“We should intervene,” Jack echoes.

David starts moving first, toward the sound of little voices. Jack jolts into motion, too, nearly colliding with him and ultimately settling on guiding him toward the kitchen with a hand at the small of his back.

It feels –

It’s nice.

When they get to the kitchen, both of their children are absolutely _drenched_ in green paint.

“I was gone for two minutes, Betsy-Bear,” Jack says, sounding somewhere between disappointed and perplexed.

“We spilled,” Ben says unhelpfully.

“Yeah, Bunny-boo, I see that,” says David. “Can I at least see your projects?”

Ben and Liza hold up their paintings. Both have some green spilled across the edges, but they’re remarkably untouched.

“Beautiful,” David says sincerely.

“Daddy helped,” Liza says proudly. “He’s a artist.”

“I saw that,” says David. “He’s very talented.”

“Gram says he’s had a lotta practice,” Liza tells him, nodding. “I wanna practice and be as good as him someday.”

“Well, you’re well on your way,” says David. He smiles over the kids’ heads at Jack.

Jack smiles back, and it warms David all the way through.


	4. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so completely thrilled by how excited all of you are about this story!! I hope you like this instalment, too :)

Jack honestly, really loves Christmas time. Or, as Race always corrects, he likes _Advent_. The time before Christmas, when anticipation is building and hopes are high.

As a parent, though, Christmas stresses him the fuck out.

He wants Eliza to have good memories of the holidays she has growing up. He wants to make sure she feels like she’s had the whole thing – the presents, the love, all of it. But because he’s alone, it’s hard to carve out the time to go gift shopping, hard to find a spare moment to wrap them, hard to _also_ find the time to do all of the other little traditions he wants to share with her.

In short, he’s ever so slightly out of his depth. And he knows his family would help him – his family _does_ help him – but he’s a grown goddamn adult and he should be able to take care of his own child.

It’s getting late in the month, and Jack is starting to scramble for time to get shopping done, so Davey’s call feels like a godsend.

_“We’re going on a little adventure today,”_ Davey says. “ _To the children’s museum, but then afterward Benji’s been begging to go ice skating. Would Lizzie want to come along? You’d be welcome, too, if you’d like.”_

That’s – new. Not that Jack minds the idea of spending time out with Davey and the kids, but he’s never been specifically invited along himself.

“Liza’d love that,” Jack replies. “I’ve still got some shopping to do, too, so if you take my daughter for a few hours I think I’d owe you my life.”

Davey laughs. “ _That’s a plan, then.”_

“I could meet you guys out for skating, though, I shouldn’t need _too_ much time,” Jack says, because skating is one of those things he’s been dying to find some time for with Liza, and anyway he’d really like to hang out with Davey, too.

“ _I’ll be looking forward to it,”_ says Davey. “ _My twenty-year-old brother is visiting and having another adult around will be an actual godsend. I love Les, I do, but he’s just as bad as the kindergarteners.”_

Jack snorts. “I don’t doubt it.”

“ _We can swing by in, like, an hour or so to pick up Liza, if that works for you,”_ says Davey.

“Sounds swell,” says Jack. “Lemme know when you’re done with the museum and which rink you’re going to, I’ll meet’cha there.”

“ _See you then!”_

\--

“So this guy,” Les says, sliding into the open space next to David. “Eliza’s dad. Buttons says you like him.”

“We’re friends, of course I like him,” David says. He’s watching Ben and Liza try to puzzle out the activity station they’re working on, fitting different pieces together to make the best possible glider to send up to the ceiling on the little conveyor.

Les bumps his shoulder against David’s. “But you _like_ him.”

“Oh,” says David. “I’m sorry, Lessy, I didn’t realize we’d returned to the fifth grade.”

Les snorts. “You haven’t left the fifth grade. Don’t you have five to eight?”

“I do.”

“Anyway, they’re your better half’s words, not mine,” says Les. “Is he right?”

David shrugs. “It’s – maybe. I’m still getting to know him, really. But he’s not half bad to look at and he’s really sweet. And talented! He’s, like, a receptionist or something, but on the side he’s the most incredible artist I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, you _do_ like him,” says Les, his eyes going wide. “You’ve got that starry look in your eye.”

“ _Starry_?” David repeats.

“Starry,” Les says, nodding. “It suits you. You haven’t looked this content with your life in a while.”

“Well, Jess dying did kind of put a damper on things,” David says without much heat. There’s something constricting in the vicinity of his heart, getting tighter.

“I’m not saying you should’ve bounced back right away, Dave,” says Les. “Just that it’s good to see you feeling better _now_.” He frowns, shifting from foot to foot for a moment. “Are you gonna, like, do anything about it?”

“What? No,” says David. “No. We’re friends, and that’s – we’re friends. The kids are friends. But it’s still so soon, and I wouldn’t want Ben to feel uncomfortable. And _I_ – I mean. No.”

“Okay, okay,” Les says, putting his hands up in surrender. “It’s too soon. That’s okay. Is it ever not going to be too soon, or are you going to stay in this holding pattern forever? You know Jessie wouldn’t –“

“If you finish that sentence, I will throw you over the railing,” David cuts in sharply. “I will. Don’t _fucking tell me_ what Jess would want or not want. She’s dead, she doesn’t want anything.”

“Sorry,” Les says softly.

David deflates a little. “I know you mean well, Les, but you’ve gotta just let me work through this in my own time. Maybe something’ll happen with Jack – _someday_ – or maybe it won’t. Maybe something’ll happen with someone else, maybe it won’t. Maybe I just marry Buttons in five years, I don’t _know_. But don’t push it.”

“Sorry,” Les says again.

“I know,” says David.

“You’d marry Buttons?”

“Of course I’d marry Buttons,” David replies, rolling his eyes. “And Mama would be thrilled, because we all know he’s her favorite child already.”

Les laughs. “And Papa’s second favorite, after Sarah, obviously.”

“He’s never forgiven him for that time Mama caught Buttons and Jess and me drinking in the basement and Buttons spilled that Papa knew what we were up to,” says David, laughing along.

This is easier, laughing. Remembering all the stupid shit that he used to get up to with Jess and Buttons before it all got complicated.

Before Jessie died and left David scrambling to pick up the pieces, trying not to lean too hard on Buttons out of a fear he doesn’t want to put words to.

The further away from the conversation about potentially moving on they get, the more the knot of guilt and anxiety in David’s chest eases.

“Daddy!” Ben calls, waving David over. “Come look, we did it!”

“You did?” says David. He walks away from his brother to see the kids’ little glider. “Wow, Benji, that looks great. Good job, Liza. Let’s test it out!”

\--

Jack is never really ready for the way a New York winter day bites at his skin, despite having grown up in the city. But he can’t bring himself to mind, he’s in a good mood. He’s got the last of his Christmas shopping done – finally – and now he’s on his way to meet Davey and the kids out at the ice rink.

He’s got gloves, anyway. And a hat for Eliza, since she’d refused one when they left the house earlier but he knows she’ll want it now. She always does, after she’s been out long enough, and Jack has taken to just anticipating that need and bringing a hat anyway.

(It’s her favorite one, the sort of lumpy purple one with the pompom that’s almost as big as her face on top that Race knit for her last year. He’s pretty sure it’s not the warmest hat she has, but she loves so much the fact that Uncle Race made it for her that it doesn’t matter.)

When he gets to the rink, he finds Davey and a person who must be the brother he mentioned trying to wrestle four tiny feet into four tiny skates.

“Need a hand?” he says.

Davey startles, but when he turns his head up toward Jack he’s smiling. “Hey, you’re just in time.”

The brother turns around, too. “Oh, hi. You must be Jack. I’m Les.”

“Nice to meet’cha, Les,” Jack replies. “I’d shake your hand, but you seem a little tied up.”

Les’s fingers are tangled pretty tightly in Eliza’s laces.

“Very funny,” says Les.

“Hi, Daddy!” Eliza chirps, grinning up at him with pink cheeks.

“Hi, Mr. Kelly,” Benji adds.

“Hey, kiddos,” says Jack. “Betsy-bear, I brought you a hat.”

“The Race Hat?” Eliza says, ever so slightly suspiciously.

“ _Did I bring the Race Hat_?” Jack echoes, teasing. “What kind of father do you think I am, Eliza Jane?” He pulls her purple hat out of his pocket, mushing it haphazardly onto her head. “Of course I brough the Race Hat.”

“How come you call it the Race Hat, Liza?” Benji asks, frowning at it. “Doesn’t look very fast.”

Jack laughs. Davey snorts. Les looks like he’s biting down on a curse word as he works his fingers out of his bow.

“Cause my Uncle Race made it, _duh_ ,” says Eliza.

“Elizabeth,” Jack says sternly. He’s really, really trying to get _duh_ out of her vocabulary, but it’s always hardest to get her to drop something she’s picked up from Race. She adores him, but, unfortunately, he’s a terrible influence.

“Sorry,” Eliza says unrepentantly.

“Are we all laced up and ready to go?” Davey says, looking at the kids.

They both nod, kicking their feet a little. Les, still on his knees, has to dodge.

“I’m gonna go grab some skates for myself,” Jack says, gesturing with a thumb back over his shoulder at the rental stand. “I’ll catch you guys on the ice in a few?”

“Sounds good,” says Davey.

“I doubt we’ll have gotten far,” says Les.

Jack laughs.

He makes as quick work as possible of renting some skates and putting them on, taking care to tie the laces tightly with his brother’s fretting about broken ankles haunting him.

Sure enough, Les, Davey, and the kids have barely made it fifteen feet from the gate by the time Jack catches back up with them.

“Here, Les, I got Eliza,” Jack says, skating up next to the younger man. Les passes Jack his daughter’s little gloved hands.

“Look, Dad, I’m doing it,” Eliza says excitedly, speeding up a little.

“I see that, baby,” Jack says. She stumbles. “Woah, okay. I gotcha. How ‘bout slow and steady, huh?”

“Slow and steady,” Eliza echoes.

Jack skates backward in front of her – not a skill he’s the strongest at, but he’s learned that it’s the best way to keep Eliza from taking him down with her when she falls. If he only holds one of her hands, it throws him off balance.

He looks up over Eliza at Davey, who’s skating side-by-side with Benji. Davey, red faced from the cold, grins back.

“How was the museum, guys?” Jack asks.

The kids launch into a detailed explanation of everything they’d done – starting, apparently, from the exact second that Jack had dropped Eliza off with Benji and Davey at their house – while Jack tries to keep up with two little voices both going a mile a minute. Fortunately they’re not exactly talking _over_ each other so much as adding to each other’s stories in a constant stream as soon as they take a breath, but it’s still hard to follow.

All the while, Jack is skating backward, occasionally exchanging helplessly fond but overwhelmed looks with Davey over the kids’ heads.

The only warning he has is –

“Mr. Kelly, watch out!”

\- before he skates into another person, sending her, him, and Eliza all sprawling.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Jack says, before he even really has his bearings again. “Eliza, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Daddy,” Eliza says. She pops back to her feet with surprising ease, scooting carefully over to the Jacobses and taking Davey’s outstretched free hand.

( _That’s_ a picture doing all kinds of unkind things to Jack’s heart, isn’t it, Davey with the two of them on either side.)

Jack turns to the person he’d skated into, offering her a hand as he gets up. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replies. She pushes coppery red hair away from her face with a mittened hand. “Oh! Jack!”

“Kathy?” Jack replies, stunned. He pulls her into a hug. “How’ve you been?”

“Great,” says Katherine. “Really great, actually. Except for getting plowed into by random men at ice rinks.”

He hasn’t seen Katherine since college, but she’s unmistakable.

“Hey, gotta keep you on your toes,” says Jack. “What brings you into the city?”

“An adventure,” Katherine says. She nods back toward a dark-haired woman standing nearby, looking concerned. “With my girlfriend. Sarah, come here and meet Jack Kelly – he was in my journalism program.”

“Sarah?” Davey says, startled, before Jack can greet her.

“David!” Sarah says. “Ben! I didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Jack,” Davey says, “Sarah here is my big sister.”

“Small world,” says Katherine, laughing.

“Well, Sarah, it’s nice to meet you,” says Jack. “Seems like we’ve got a couple friends in common.”

“Sure does,” says Sarah.

“That’s my daughter, Eliza,” Jack says, nodding toward her. Eliza gives the girls a little wave.

“No,” Katherine says, disbelieving. “No, there’s no way. She’s got to be, what, six?”

“I’m five-and-three-quarters,” Eliza pipes up.

Katherine laughs. “No, there’s no way Elizabeth Kelly is five-and-three-quarters. She’s supposed to be a baby!”

“Funny how time works,” says Jack, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly.

“Hey, we’ll let you two get back to your date,” Davey says.

Jack nods. “C’mon, kiddos.”

He skates over and takes Eliza’s other hand, and the four of them keep moving forward, around the girls. Jack doesn’t know where Les has gotten to, since as soon as he’d let go of Eliza he’d gone rocketing off to show off, so it’s just him and Davey and Eliza and Benji, a neat little row of instability.

After four more near-collisions, six falls (one of which took out all four of them), and an hour of the cold working its way into their skates, Davey and Jack decide more or less silently over Benji and Eliza’s heads that it’s time to call it and go get some hot cocoa from the little stand by skate rental.

“I can’t believe my sister’s got a girlfriend and hadn’t even _told_ me yet,” Davey says, once the kids are occupied on stable ground.

“It could be new,” Jack suggests.

“Sarah hates ice skating,” Davey tells him conspiratorially. “She’d never do it for a date unless she really liked the girl. It’s not new.”

Jack snorts. “Well, you said she fusses over you seeing people. Maybe she’s worried you’ll turn the tables.”

“She’d deserve it,” Davey says quietly, and Jack can’t help but laugh. “She would!”

“Hey, I’m sure,” says Jack. “Believe me, the level of attitude Racer and I gave Albo when he first started seeing Charlie was _unreal_. ‘Course now Race and Albert are best friends, so take that how you will.”

Davey chuckles. “What I’m hearing is, _be obnoxious to her, become best friends, Sarah will hate it_.”

“If Sarah’s anything like Charlie, she _will_ hate it,” says Jack. “But that sounds like a perk to me, as a youngest.”

“ _Youngest_ ,” Davey says with mock disgust.

“Middle child!”

Davey giggles. “Whatever. Does your brother know you torture him intentionally?”

“He thinks the best of me,” Jack says, winking. “But he knows Race gives him shit on purpose.”

“Daddy,” Eliza says. “That’s a bad word.”

Jack chokes on his hot chocolate. “Right, sorry baby. I didn’t think you were listening.”

“Gram says little ears are always listening,” Eliza says wisely.

Davey’s laugh – his real, full chest laugh – at that is going to haunt Jack’s dreams for weeks. It’s the first time Jack’s heard it, not some softer, stifled thing.

It’s gorgeous.

\--

“Hey, David?” Les says. It’s late, and David has already tucked his tuckered-out son into bed.

“What’s up, Lessy?”

Les wrinkles his nose. “Don’t call me that.”

“It’s my right as your brother to call you whatever the fuck I want.”

“This is why Buttons is mom’s favorite.”

“Did you have something to tell me?” David asks, poking his little brother’s side. “Or were you just planning to annoy me?”

“I just wanted to show you something,” says Les, after sticking his tongue out like a child for a moment.

He passes his phone over to David.

It’s open to a photo, clearly taken today at the ice rink. David, Ben, Jack, and Eliza are all sprawled on the ice, after Ben losing his footing had turned into the whole chain of them falling down. The kids have their heads together, little mittens covering their mouths to stifle the laughter that’s clear in their eyes, while Jack and David grin at each other across them.

David remembers this moment, remembers the way his breath – cold and sharp from the winter air – caught in his chest at the fond amusement playing in Jack’s eyes when their gazes met. Remembers the way his soft little smile had widened into a full on grin when he realized David was watching him, the way the two of them hadn’t been able to resist joining in the kids’ laughter.

“I thought you’d want that,” Les says, somewhere far away. “Do you want me to text it to you? I could send it to Jack, too, if you want.”

“No, I can,” David says quickly. “Just send it to me, I’ll pass it along.”

Les lets out an amused little huff. “Whatever you want, Dave.” He takes his phone back, eyeing the photo again for a moment before tapping over into his messages. “Hey, David?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you’re not ready to fall in love again yet. But whenever you are?” He pauses, sending the message. “I get the feeling he’ll be there to catch you.”


	5. January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little shorter than I wanted it to be, but it also fought me tooth and nail top to bottom, so I suppose that's to be expected. Hopefully the next one will be a little longer!

David has known for a while that Jack Kelly is, to put it mildly, a little bit extra when it comes to his little girl.

He did not know, however, that Jack is _hand-lettered birthday party invitation_ extra.

He can’t resist, he calls Jack.

“ _Kelly,”_ Jack answers, even though he knows it’s David calling.

“Did you write these out yourself?” David asks without preamble.

Jack laughs. _“Yeah. I’m a little out of practice.”_

“This is _out_ of practice?” says David, and he can’t help laughing too. “Christ, Jack, what does _in_ practice look like for you?”

_“Next time you’re over, I’ll dig somethin’ up from when I did stuff like that on the regular,”_ Jack says. “ _I’ll tell you here and now, it’s a lot less shaky.”_

“Every time I think I’ve got a handle on you, Jackie, you throw something new at me,” says David. “ _Calligraphy_. And not just calligraphy, but calligraphy on your daughter’s six-year-old birthday cards.”

_“Hey, teddy bear tea at Gram’s house is a big deal,”_ says Jack, though it sounds like he’s barely containing his laughter. “ _By request, it’s also princess tea. So we got fancy.”_

“I see that.”

“ _I thought it would be cute.”_

“It is,” David assures him. “Extremely. I’m just in awe of your apparently boundless depth of random talents.”

“ _If you look closely, there’s a theme. Like yours, mister I-play-four-instruments_ ,” Jack replies, his tone teasing.

“I barely play piano, it’s honestly embarrassing,” says David.

Jack snorts. “ _Oh. Embarrassing. Right. Hey, what was it you called me before?”_

“Oh, uh, Jackie?” says David. His cheeks flush pink, and he’s suddenly very glad Jack isn’t in person with him to see it. “Sorry, it just slipped out.”

“ _No, no, I don’t mind,”_ Jack says. “ _It’s cute. And anyway, I call you Davey all the time. I don’t have any room to complain.”_

David chuckles. “Hey, if you say so.”

“ _Oh, hey, I don’t remember if I put it on the invite, but you’re welcome to the party if you wanna come. You’d be welcome anyway, but Char and Al will be there and if you come it’ll feel less like I’m being babysat and more like ‘parents were invited,’ you know?”_

_“_ I’ll be there,” David assures him. He likes Jack’s company and it’s always a joy to watch the kids play together, but the longer he knows Jack the more he gets the impression the younger man sometimes needs a buffer from his brother. David doesn’t have a full picture of the Kellys’ past, but he knows whatever is in it has left Charlie well into the _over_ side of protective. “There a dress code to go with this fancy invite?”

_“It’s_ princess _tea, David,”_ Jack says seriously. “ _Fancy outfits welcome but not required. I think Eliza is going to be dressed as Cinderella, although she keeps changing her mind. Just don’t forget to bring a teddy bear, too. Teddy bears are mandatory.”_

David laughs. “Got it. Bring teddy bears, come dressed as Spider-man.”

That earns a laugh from Jack, which fills David with no small amount of pure, glowing pride.

\--

“Charles Kelly, I swear to _fucking God_ –“

“That’s a swear!” Eliza chirps from the other room.

“Sorry, baby,” Jack calls back. He pinches the bridge of his nose. He drops his voice. “I swear to fuck, Char, butt _out_.”

“Jack,” Charlie says, putting a hand on Jack’s arm. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re always trying to help, Char,” Jack says tiredly. “And I appreciate it, I do, okay? You’re the best big brother a guy could ask for. But you’re _not_ Eliza’s dad, okay? I can handle this.”

“But you don’t _have to_ ,” says Charlie, frowning. “You don’t have to do it all on your own. You never do.”

“Except I _do_ , Charlie,” says Jack. “I do. I’ve told you a thousand times, parenting isn’t something you can swoop in and save me from, okay?”

Charlie sits down, flopping heavily into one of the dining table chairs. He mutters something that sounds like, “ _You weren’t ready_.”

“Well neither were you,” Jack says. He climbs back onto the stepladder, going back to the task he’d been in the middle of before Charlie came in and started nitpicking his parenting.

“That was different,” says Charlie. “I was twenty-four, I was married, and the twins were _planned_. Neither of us were nineteen and taking college classes when they were born. We were much better prepared than you were.”

“You and I remember that time very differently,” Jack says in a low voice. “Because I seem to recall that you were _also_ outta your depth, callin’ Mama every three hours, only there was two’a you doin’ it, ‘stead’a just one.”

“Jack –“

“You’re older than me, Char, but one’a these days you’ve gotta accept our kids are the same age, okay?” Jack sweeps a hand through his hair. “You’re not actually any better at this whole thing than I am. Please just let me parent how I want to parent. I don’t go tellin’ _you_ what to do.”

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Charlie says softly.

Jack glances back over his shoulder, sighing. “Yeah, Char. I know.”

The older Jack gets, the more he chafes under Charlie’s constant fretting. It’s not that Charlie’s heart isn’t in the right place, because it is and it always has been. But Jack is more confident, now, in who he is and how he wants to raise Eliza, and unfortunately lately that means he’s been butting heads with his big brother more than ever.

(It’s always something dumb – today, it’s that Charlie hadn’t liked the way Jack handled Eliza backtalking – but inevitably spirals into Jack getting frustrated with Charlie overstepping and Charlie getting frustrated by Jack’s insistence on independence.)

The doorbell rings.

Jack, as satisfied as he’s going to be with the angle the birthday banner is hanging at, steps down to answer it. “That’ll be Davey and Ben, he said they were running a little early. Can you cool it on the parenting advice while my friend is here? ‘Cause if you can’t, just embarrass me early and get it out of the way.”

He doesn’t give Charlie a chance to respond.

When he opens the front door, sure enough he finds Davey and Benji Jacobs, standing close together to fend off the January breeze. Benji is holding a wrapped box, presumably for Eliza, in one hand and a well-loved teddy bear in the other. He’s practically vibrating with excitement. The ends of his hair are staticky, sticking straight out from the brim of his knit cap. Davey is calmer, but that’s sort of the way of things.

“Well, hello there, Jacobs boys,” Jack greets, grinning. He lets them pass him into the front hall, shutting the door behind them. “Ben, once you get your jacket and stuff off, Liza, Hunter, and Emmy are in the living room right through there.”

Liza’s present is shoved into his father’s hands, and Ben shrugs out of his coat faster than Jack can really process, before he shoots off like a rocket to play with the other kids, leaving an amused Jack and Davey in his wake.

“You’ll notice we did skip Spider-man,” Davey says, nodding after his son. “If you’ll believe it, the Prince Eric costume was already in his closet.”

“He’ll fit right in,” says Jack. “So far we’ve got Emmy as Ariel, Hunter as Prince Naveen, and Eliza as Elena, because she changed her mind at the last minute.”

Davey laughs. “Such is being six years old, I suppose. I assume the rest of your family are here, are we the first guests?”

“You are,” says Jack, nodding. “Which, honestly, if it were just Ben and her cousins, Liza would still be thrilled. Racer and Al actually just ran out to the store – we’re serving hot chocolate but somehow not a single one of us managed to bring marshmallows? – but Char’s in the dining room and Mama’s just finishing up icing the cake. She wouldn’t let me do it.”

“Let me guess, cake decoration is one of your many talents?” Davey says, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, God, no,” says Jack. “Here, let me take your coats.” Davey nods, taking his own coat off and handing off both his and Benji’s for Jack to tuck into the hall closet. “No, I’m actually absolute crap at cakes. That’s why Mama wouldn’t let me do it – she’s got a lot more practice.”

Davey laughs again. “Oh, thank God.”

“What?” Jack replies, startled.

“I was starting to think you were perfect,” Davey says with a wink. “Knowing you’re also capable of making ugly things makes you a much less intimidating person to be friends with.”

_I was starting to think you were perfect_.

The words – paired with a tone that Jack could almost, almost call flirting – send Jack’s heart racing.

Jack maybe stares at Davey for a moment too long, before finally finding his voice again. “Perfect? Nah. Just lucky you haven’t hit on one of the thousands of things I’m bad at yet.”

“I guess I’ll just have to stick around and keep looking for’em, then,” says Davey. “Not because I want you to be bad at things, I just mean – I like your company. I was trying to say I like your company and want to spend more time with you, and it kind of came out as an insult.”

Jack laughs. “Hey, hey. I like your company, too.”

“Jack?” Medda calls. “Who was that at the door?”

“It was Davey and Benji, Mama,” Jack calls back.

“Is Davey staying?”

“Yes, Mama!”

“Are the two of you planning to spend the whole party in my front hall, or are you going to invite your friend all the way in?” Medda pokes her head around the doorframe, fixing her youngest son with an _I-raised-you-better_ glare. Then she shifts her gaze to Davey, brightening significantly. “Nice to see you again, Davey. There are snacks in the dining room.”

“Nice to see you, too, Medda,” Davey says, smiling politely. “Snacks sound lovely.”

Medda nods and steps back into the other room.

Davey looks at Jack, his polite smile splitting into a wide, deeply amused grin. “I think your mother was implying you’re being a poor host, keeping me out here.”

“Maybe I just wanna keep you to myself,” Jack grumbles good-naturedly. Davey bumps his shoulder against Jack’s, chuckling.

“What, and deprive me of your lovely mother’s presence?” Davey teases. “Come on, Jackie. Let’s go have some six-year-old food.”

\--

David trails Jack into the dining room, which is honestly _stunning_. David’s never really had an eye for architecture or anything, but he can recognize a beautiful old house when he sees one, and Medda’s house is certainly that.

“I see why Jack and Eliza asked you to host, Medda,” David says. “Your house is lovely, definitely perfect for a princess tea.”

Medda laughs. “Thanks, sweetie.”

“Hey, Davey,” Charlie says. He’s sitting near the end of the table, pulling apart what looks like a fruit roll-up.

“Hi, Charlie,” says David, waving. “How’s it going?”

“Alright, alright. How’s the semester treating you?” Charlie asks.

David shrugs. “Not bad, but there’s plenty of time. We’re only a few weeks in.”

The conversation goes on from there, and a few minutes later Albert and Race return from the store.

“Oh, Davey’s here already,” Albert says. “Hi, Davey.”

“Hi Albert, nice to see you again,” says David.

“David!” Race says brightly. “Hey, thanks again for –“ he breaks off, glancing at his older brother briefly, “- that book recommendation. I really liked it.”

David takes that for what it is – Race and Spot have seen each other a few times now, it seems to be going well. Book recommendation, boyfriend recommendation – it’s all the same, isn’t it?

He nods. “Right, you’re welcome. I had a feeling it would be up your alley.”

It’s not long after that that other kids start arriving. A few parents linger to help wrangle, but soon the children vastly outnumber the adults. Fortunately, being vastly outnumbered by children is part of David’s job description, although generally speaking they’re not quite this small and rambunctious.

Albert has organized an activity that involves decorating small hats for the kids’ teddy bear companions, and David gets roped into helping Jack make enough little teacups of hot chocolate for thirty five-and-six-year-olds.

“This is pure chaos,” Jack says, shaking his head. “But every time I think that, I look over at Liza and she just looks _so_ happy – I don’t regret it at all.”

David nods. “I know how you feel.”

“I’d do pretty much anything to keep her smiling like that.”

Jack’s got this soft little smile on his face, and he’s gazing fondly (if maybe a little distantly) out at where Liza and Ben are at the center of a complicated sounding game of make-believe in the next room.

“You’re a really good dad, you know,” David says softly. “I’m sure that doesn’t mean much, since we’ve only known each other a few months, but I can see it in everything you do. I know how hard it is to raise a kid on your own, but you’re doing a really good job with her.”

Jack huffs a quiet laugh, looking down at their tray of little teacups. “Char’d disagree with you.”

“Well he’d be wrong,” David says with conviction. “Jackie –“

“What?” Jack glances up, meeting David’s eye.

David is suddenly aware of how close together they’ve shifted. They’re shoulder-to-shoulder, and Jack’s face feels very close.

He breaks eye contact, his own gaze dropping back to the cups. “She’s a good kid, Jack. She’s happy. That’s all anybody can hope for.”

Jack hums.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Jack says. He bumps his shoulder against David’s, and David instinctively meets his gaze again. “It does mean a lot, from you.”

David’s cheeks flush. “Oh.”

“You’re kinda my best friend, you know. Maybe that says more about how few friends I have than – I mean. I’m glad I know you,” Jack says, his voice soft. “What you think of me – it means a lot.”

“Oh,” David says again, stupidly. And then, “Well, _you_ mean a lot to me. I’m glad I know you, too.”

Jack looks like he’s going to say something else, but then Charlie calls, “Hey, what’s holdin’ you two up in there? It’s cake time!”

The moment breaks.

“Back into the fray, I guess,” says David.

Jack laughs.


	6. February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a wild ride, folks.

“Dad?”

“What’s up, Bets?”

Eliza’s little face pokes around the doorframe. “I don’t feel good.”

“Oh, honey,” says Jack. He puts his sketchbook down, walking over to his daughter. “What’s the matter?”

She’s been a little sniffly for the last day or two, but it didn’t seem to be bothering her.

“My head hurts,” Eliza says quietly. “I think I sneezed my whole brain out.”

Jack chuckles, then bends to scoop her up into his arms. She’s still so little, really. Holding her like this it’s easy to remember the first time she’d gotten sick as a baby, and the absolute blind panic it had thrown him into. He’s got a better handle on the whole thing, now.

“Your whole brain?” Jack says. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead. “Sounds serious.”

Eliza nods solemnly.

“I think I know just how to get it back,” Jack tells her. “Step one is putting on our very cuddliest pajamas, and then we’ll go snuggle up on the couch and watch Finding Nemo. I hear Finding Nemo is very good for brain sneezing recovery.”

Finding Nemo also happens to be Eliza’s (current) favorite movie.

“Really?” Eliza says, blinking slowly up at Jack.

Jack rocks her side to side just a bit. “Really really. I think we might even need some hot chocolate.”

“ _Really_?”

Jack nods. “Do you think that might help, baby bear?”

“I think so, Daddy,” says Eliza.

“Good,” says Jack. He carries her down the hall to her room. “Do you want your footie jammas or the ones Gram gave you for your birthday?”

“Feeties,” Eliza says softly.

“Gotcha,” says Jack. After carefully setting Eliza down on her bed, he goes over to her pajama drawer, pulling out the requested PJs. Fortunately they’re near the top, since it’s still been cold enough for her to wear them without getting too hot in the night.

He tosses the pajamas at her. “Can you put these on while I go change into mine?”

Eliza nods.

Jack goes across the hall to his own room, grabbing his comfiest flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt with a dinosaur pun on it that always makes Eliza laugh.

He has a gut feeling that Eliza is more uncomfortable than actually sick, so he figures the best course of action is to just curl up and be comfy for a while and see how things go from there.

He makes hot chocolate, too, and eventually he hears little feet – moving at a much more sedate pace than their usual run – coming down the hall.

Jack moves the hot chocolate to the coffee table, then scoops Eliza back up.

“Feeling any better yet, Betsy-bear?” Jack asks quietly.

Eliza whines quietly. “Not really.”

“That’s okay. We’ve got some movies and some cocoa and a whole day of cuddles, how’s that?”

“That sounds good, Daddy,” Eliza says. She rests her head against Jack’s shoulder and he rocks her gently as he walks. She’s six years old, but she still feels so small in his arms.

They curl up side-by-side on the couch. Jack has his legs curled up next to him and Eliza is nestled into the space, resting against his side. He strokes her hair gently as he gets the movie started, and before it’s even halfway through, Eliza has fallen asleep.

Jack keeps watching, because sure he’s seen Finding Nemo eighty times in the last few weeks, but it’s still a damn good movie and as a single dad it hits _hard_.

He’s just at the part when Marlin wakes up in the EAC when his phone buzzes.

_Davey: Hey, are you guys coming? I thought we’d said 2:30_

Shit.

_Me: Sorry, I totally forgot to call you. Liz is under the weather, currently passed out on the couch. We’re not gonna make it out._

_Me: Have fun though. Say hi to the sharks for us._

_Davey: Oh no! I hope she feels better soon._

_Me: Thanks. I’m sure she’ll be bummed about missing the aquarium, she freakin loves fish._

_Davey: I’m sure Ben will tell her all about it on Monday._

_Me: A good old kindergartener play-by-play. It’ll be like she was really there._

_Davey: Lol. We’re heading in, see you soon?_

_Me: For sure. Next week, if she’s up to it?_

_Davey: It’s a date._

_Davey: A plan._

_Davey: It’s a playdate?_

_Me: lol, whatever you wanna call it, Davey. Have a good day._

Jack smiles to himself, with no one but his sleeping daughter to catch him. He’s been tagging along on Davey’s little adventures with the kids more and more, and he’s man enough to admit to himself that yeah, he wouldn’t mind a date with Davey.

But Davey’s not exactly available, so playdates are gonna have to do.

\--

“Jacobs, I think I’m in love.”

“I’ll call the newspaper,” Buttons says, not looking up from his work.

“See, this is why I didn’t say it to you,” Spot says over his shoulder. “Your aro ass wouldn’t give a shit about my love life if I smacked you over the head with it.”

At that, Buttons does look up, an expression of mock offense firmly in place. “Ex _cuse_ me, Spottacus Conlon –“

“Sorry, _what_?”

“I take an enthusiastic interest in your love life,” Buttons continues, “when it’s _fucking interesting_.”

“We are still in the school building,” David says pointlessly.

“There aren’t any students,” Buttons and Spot say in dismissive unison before going back to their bickering.

David rolls his eyes. They’re not wrong – it’s a three-day-weekend and the three of them are in in a vain effort to get ahead on some organization and a new project Spot wants to introduce. Ben is, thankfully, in the capable hands of Jack Kelly. David’s pretty sure there was pillow fort construction on the schedule, and he can’t help wishing he were at the Kelly house helping with that over sitting here listening to Spot and Buttons pester each other.

That’s less because he doesn’t want to listen to Spot and Buttons – they’re obnoxious and antagonistic with each other, yeah, but it’s generally entertaining – and more because he finds himself looking forward to the time he spends with Jack and Eliza a lot more than he’d ever have expected. Not that David is really prepared to own that yet.

“- think, Dave?” Spot says.

“What?”

“I said what do _you_ think, Dave?”

“No, I got that part. What am I weighing in on?”

“Are we that boring to you?” Buttons says. He throws a pen across the room at him and misses.

“Shut up,” Spot says. “Dave, I was saying I think me being in love is plenty interesting.”

“Sure,” says David. “You and Race have been out a few more times now, right? It’s going well?”

“Yeah,” Spot says. David didn’t think he’d ever in a million years be able to categorize Spot Conlon’s voice as _dreamy_ , but he can’t think of a better word for it now. “He said he’s gonna tell his brother he’s seein’ somebody this week.”

“Shit, really?” says David, surprised. Not that he didn’t believe things were going well, but the impression David has gotten from Race and Jack both is that they’re both _very_ slow to tell Charlie about new relationships.

“I thought his brother and David set you two up?” Buttons says, his eyebrows pushing together in confusion.

“Their older brother,” David supplies. “Hunter and Emmy DaSilva’s dad, Charlie, have you met him? Jack says he’s awfully protective.”

Spot nods.

“Oh, _Jack_ told you, did he?” Buttons says, his tone teasing.

“You know, Racer says Jack’s been mooning over some other dad,” Spot says. “And you two’ve been spending an awful lotta time together –“

“Guys,” David says softly. “Can we not? It’s almost the twenty-third and I – I can’t right now, okay?“

“Shit,” Spot says.

Buttons gets up and crosses the room, taking a seat on David’s desk. He sweeps a stray curl away from David’s face.

“’Course, babe,” he says. “I’m sorry, I should’ve known this wouldn’t be a good time.”

David shakes his head a little jerkily. “It’s fine.”

“We should talk later about what that word means,” Buttons says, frowning. “Because I’m pretty sure you’ve missed the mark again.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to David’s hairline, then gets back up and walks back to his own desk. “So, Spot, you’re finally _tell the brother_ material?”

“Yeah,” Spot says slowly. “Apparently I am.”

“Sounds like true love to me,” says Buttons, and the conversation moves on like it never stopped.

It’s all well and good for David to have his little crush on Jack, but another entirely to actually _do_ anything about it.

Especially right now.

He checks his desk calendar again. It’s the twelfth.

\--

A week later finds Eliza having completely bounced back, not a sniffle in sight, and Jack deems her good to go out on an adventure to the natural history museum with the Jacobses.

“So, is Benji going to the twins’ birthday party next week?” Jack asks, hanging back with David while the kids investigate an interactive display together.

David startles. “Oh, uh. No, actually. He – we.” He hums, frowning. “It’s the anniversary of Jessie’s death on Friday. We’re staying in all weekend.”

“Oh,” says Jack. “I’m sorry, Davey, I didn’t realize.”

David shrugs. “I don’t exactly advertise it. I get enough sad looks from my family over it, I don’t – it just feels weird to lead with, you know? Hi, my name’s David and my wife is dead.”

Jack chuckles, because it feels like that’s what Davey wants, but his heart hurts for his friend. “Yeah, I get it.”

They stand in silence for a little while, watching the kids.

Jack bumps his shoulder against Davey’s.

“What was she like?”

“Talented,” Davey says after a moment. “She and Buttons and I all met in this community music program when we were kids, and she could always outplay the both of us together.” He sighs, his gaze going a little distant. “She was going places, Jackie.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack says again. On instinct, he threads his fingers through Davey’s, hoping to give him a little bit of comfort.

Davey squeezes his hand. “Thanks. That’s – it’s not what most people ask, when they find out I’m a single dad. That Jess is dead. Any of it.”

“Yeah, well, lotsa people only ask about shit like that ‘cause the traumatic stuff makes for an interesting story, or ‘cause they wanna feel good about knowing it didn’t happen to them,” Jack says, bitter. “Never mind _you’re_ a real person still dealing with the fallout.” He shakes his head. “I bet she was really somethin’, Davey, to catch your eye.”

“She was too good for me,” Davey says with a laugh. His smile fades a little. “I feel really out of my depth with Benji without her, sometimes.”

Jack squeezes Davey’s hand again. “You’re doing really good, Dave. You’ve got it. I know it sucks, but you’ve got it.”

Davey turns, his gaze sharp and focused directly on Jack. “Hey. Thanks.”

“Any time, Davey,” Jack says, quiet.

Davey nods. Again, quieter, he says, “Thanks.”

Eliza calls them over not long after that, asking for help identifying a word neither she nor Benji recognized.

Davey pulls Jack over to the kids by their joined hands.

Neither of them lets go.

\--

Les comes up to spend the weekend with David and Ben on Thursday.

Buttons comes home with them on Friday after school.

None of them really quiet know what to make of this day, this week. Of any of it.

Least of all Ben.

Les is in charge of Ben for the weekend, strictly speaking. It’s not that David isn’t there or doing anything it’s just – he’s distracted. And Buttons is almost as lost and wrong-footed as David is, so he’s not much help either.

It’s around five on Friday, and the three adults are trying to decide what to do for dinner since none of them had the good sense to make a plan ahead of time. Ben is coloring on the floor, sprawled out flat on the rug.

The doorbell rings.

David looks at Buttons.

Buttons looks at Les.

Les answers the doorbell. “Hello?”

“ _Delivery for Jacobs?”_

“I didn’t order anything,” David says, confused.

Les shrugs and goes down to the front to investigate.

He comes back up with two bags of food, from the Indian restaurant a few blocks away that David and Ben like.

“He said it was already paid for,” says Les. “That somebody ordered it to be sent here. Receipt on the bag says the order is for Kelly, with a delivery note that it was going to the Jacobs apartment.”

“Kelly?” Buttons repeats, glancing at David.

As if on cue, David’s phone buzzes.

_Jack: Hey, I just got a notification the food was delivered. Hope I’m not overstepping – I always want my favorites on days like this, and you said when we went there that this place is yours. Took a guess on what to get Benny & Les. Hope you guys are doing okay._

David’s eyes prickle a little. He is _not_ going to cry over his friend sending dinner. He isn’t.

“Yeah, it’s from Jack,” David says, looking up from his phone. “He knows it’s one of our favorite restaurants, and he figured – yeah.”

“That’s thoughtful of him,” says Les.

Buttons kneels next to Ben, who has been coloring completely unconcerned on the floor the whole time. He touches Ben’s shoulder. “Hey, Bunny. There’s food.”

Ben sits up, pushing his coloring book aside. He lifts his arms up silently, asking for Buttons to pick him up.

He’s been doing a lot of that, lately. Usually Ben doesn’t like being carried, because he’s _too big for that, Dad_ , but this week he’s been clinging closer to Buttons and David. David isn’t sure how much the exact date they lost Jess is in Ben’s head, but he’s clearly feeling it.

Buttons scoops Ben up and carries him to the dinner table while Les starts getting food onto plates.

Dinner is strange – not as strange as last year, when David had a breakdown that started at the dinner table only for him to quickly excuse himself and hide in his room for the next hour –but David is glad to have Les and Buttons here. They talk about Jess on and off. Buttons and David trade memories, at one point both getting so caught up in a story that neither can finish it for Les and Ben because they’re both laughing so hard.

If he closes his eyes, it could be a normal day. In a sense it almost _is_ a normal day, since this is what normal has looked like for the last two years. David and Ben and Buttons and sometimes Les, no Jess.

Two years. It feels strange, because all at once two years feels like nothing and feels like it’s stretched on into a thousand years.

Ben is going to be six next month; Jess has been gone fully a third of his life.

Les gets Ben to help him with a puzzle before bed, telling him stories about how Jess always seemed to have a puzzle going, how she’d let Les “help” her work on it when she babysat him when they were younger. He also manages most of the bedtime routine for Ben, though David still tucks him in and tells him his bedtime story.

“Night-night, Benny-bunny,” David says, pressing a kiss to Ben’s forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Daddy,” Ben says sleepily. He rolls onto his side, wriggling a little lower under the blanket. “I miss Mommy.”

“I know,” says David. He kisses Ben’s head again. “I do, too.”

Ben nods. “I’m glad Uncle Les and Buttons came over. They loved her a lot too.”

“They sure do,” says David. “We’re lucky we have a family who care so much about us and Mommy, aren’t we?”

Ben nods. “So lucky.” He yawns. “Good night, Daddy.”

“Good night, Benji.”

Buttons stays the night, curled around David in the bed. When they wake up in the morning, Ben has made a little nest of pillows and blankets between them.

David sighs, oddly content in the early morning light. So often his world still feels like the floor’s been set at a funny angle, not quite completely on its side any more but a little off-balance, but surrounded by so much love – not just from his son and best friend, but from his brother in the other room, and even Jack Kelly, thinking of him last night.

Things are finally starting to look up again.

\--

Race, Jack, and Medda are all over at the DaSilva house helping Albert and Charlie get ready for the twins’ birthday party later.

(Albert’s brother, Elmer, is due to arrive in a few hours, but he and his partner seem to have underestimated the amount of time it takes to leave the house with a toddler and probably won’t even quite make it for the start of the party.)

The kids are upstairs, playing blocks.

The adults are downstairs, tense.

“For how long, you said?” Charlie says, his voice the picture of casual, only betrayed by the tension in his shoulders.

“Since November,” Race says. His fake casual voice is less refined than Charlie’s. “He’s one of Davey’s teacher friends, and I really like him.”

“That’s great,” says Charlie. “I’m really happy for you.” He looks up at Race. “Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“You never asked me.”

“Did you tell Albert?”

“No.”

“Why not? I thought the two of you were best friends?”

Albert winces. He, like Jack and Medda, is as far away from this conversation as he can be without noticeably leaving the room. None of them want to be in the middle of this, least of all Al.

Race scrunches his nose up in frustration. “You know why, Char.”

Charlie hums, a half smile on his face. “Right. Because he would’ve told me. And you didn’t want me to know. When did we start keeping shit from each other, Race?”

Medda sighs. Jack is pretty sure she’s fighting an urge to intervene, but she’s long since declared their problems their problems – now that they’re adults, she’s sworn not to get involved unless she has to.

“I don’t know,” Race says, his voice breaking on the third syllable. “Maybe after you chased off my last two boyfriends and put Jack so far off dating he won’t even make a move on the guy he’s obviously head over heels for?”

“What?” says Charlie, his head whipping around to look at Jack.

“Hey,” says Jack, putting his hands up. “Leave me outta this.”

“Or haven’t you noticed?” says Race.

“Jack isn’t into anybody, he’d have said something,” says Charlie. “You know how he gets.”

“Yeah, I do,” says Race. “And he’s been mooning over this guy to me for months. But he won’t tell _you_ , because you’re always on him about his parenting and his judgment and you’d probably tear his sweetheart to pieces before you even gave him a chance!”

“Race –“

“You don’t have any room to get angry with me over not telling you when I’ve just started seeing somebody if you’re gonna treat all our significant others like they’re fucking enemy spies you’re interrogating,” Race continues, his cool rapidly deteriorating.

“I’m just trying to look out for you!”

“Yeah,” says Race. “Well remind me exactly when either of us asked for that?”

Charlie just stares at him.

Jack, for all he’s also frustrated as fuck with how Charlie’s been acting lately, cannot believe that he’s watching this conversation.

For a long moment, none of them say anything.

The doorbell rings.

“That’ll be guests,” Albert says, sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet room. “I’ll get the door.”

“I think I’m gonna head out,” Race says quietly. “Tell Hunter and Emmy I said happy birthday.”

He walks out of the room, toward the back door. Medda follows, with a soft, “Tony, honey –“

Leaving Jack and Charlie alone in the dining room.

“I’m just trying to look out for you both,” Charlie says again, quiet.

“Yeah,” says Jack. “We know.”


	7. March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some answers! Some resolution! Some forward fucking motion!!  
> I'm trying to earn my slow burn tag on this one, am I winning?

“Char and Racer aren’t talking,” Jack says.

David, who had been reading while the kids play, jumps. “Shit, Jackie. Next time lead with hello.”

Jack laughs, dropping onto the park bench next to him. “You work with kids, I had to see if I could getcha.”

“Well, you did,” says David. He closes his book. “Hi, Jack.”

“Heya, Davey,” Jack says.

He’s shoulder-to-shoulder with David, pressed maybe a little closer than he needs to be. It’s nice, though, warm against the wet chill of early spring.

“You said Charlie and Race aren’t talking?” David asks, his brow furrowed.

“Not since the party,” Jack confirms. “They’re – Ma is, like, _this_ close to stepping in. She usually doesn’t like getting involved in our shit, but she also raised us better than how we’ve been treating each other and she’s not real happy about it.”

“I know you said it didn’t go well, but I didn’t realize they were actively not speaking,” says David.

Jack frowns, looking toward the kids. “Yeah. I feel bad for Al, stuck in the middle of ‘em. Racer’s still real steamed, I think he just needs some time.”

“And it was just over Race not telling Charlie he’s seeing Spot, right?”

“Yes’n no,” Jack says, shrugging. “Char’s upset Race’s been keepin’ things from him, but Race is pissed Charlie feels like he’s got a right to be in our business.” He runs his outside hand through his hair. “I’m just countin’ myself lucky none’a that’s directed at me, since it’s my fault Char’s so up in our faces about datin’ and shit.”

“So you’ve said,” David replies slowly. “It seems like that’s more Charlie’s problem than yours, though.”

Jack shakes his head. “He never used to be like this, not this bad. But ever since everything went up in flames with Liza’s mom, Charlie’s been _ridiculous_ about either of us seeing anybody.”

“Why?” David asks before he can stop himself.

Looking surprised but not offended, Jack tips his head to one side, thinking. “Charlie liked Mandy.”

“Mandy being –“

“Betsy’s mom,” Jack finishes. David nods; he’d figured. “She was nice, she was _fine_. Char was, like, normal levels of protective big brother with her, but we didn’t – I mean. She and I started seeing each other right at the beginning of freshman year of college, right? And we couldn’t’a known how it would all go down.”

“What happened?” David asks quietly. “If you don’t mind telling me?”

Jack turns his head slightly, looking over at David with a half-smile. “Never, Davey.” He sighs. “It wasn’t she did anything wrong, really. We just – we were never _really_ compatible, at end’a day. Tried to stick it out for Liza’s sake, but that just kinda made us resent each other by the time it all fell apart. We split when Bets was ‘bout six months.”

“I’m sorry,” says David.

“Don’t be, she’n I’d both be fuckin’ miserable if we’d stayed together,” says Jack. He shrugs. “Sometimes that’s how it is. It’s a lot better for Eliza this way.”

“How’d that turn into -?” David waves vaguely, trying to indicate _how Charlie is_.

“Charlie liked Mandy,” Jack repeats, frowning like he’s thinking hard on the answer. “I think he blamed himself for not, I dunno, catching how bad she and I were gonna be for each other or some other shit he couldn’t actually control or predict, and it just – spiraled.”

David leans into Jack a little, pressing their sides a little more firmly against each other. “Did you ever say anything to him before now? Either of you?”

“Once,” Jack says softly. “Kath – Sarah’s Kath – and I started seein’ each other my senior year of college. She and I had been in the same program ‘fore I switched out, and Mandy and I were done, and I – I probably shouldn’a been seein’ _anybody_ , but Char just tore into her when he met her.” He shakes his head. “Kathy didn’t deserve that, and I told Charlie so, but it didn’t really make a difference. Kath wasn’t really in a place to be with somebody who had a kid, and I was too new to fatherhood to be datin’ around anyway. We split, and Char’s been fussy ever since.”

“You were, what, nineteen when Eliza was born?” David says.

Jack nods. “And way the fuck outta my depth. Charlie’s always sayin’ I wasn’t ready, and I wasn’t, but –“ he looks toward Eliza, his expression softening –“I don’t regret it, really.”

David, on instinct, reaches over and threads his fingers through Jack’s. “Call me selfish, but _I’m_ pretty glad you had Eliza when you did, too. Otherwise we wouldn’t be friends.”

Jack laughs. “I’m’unna tell Charlie that, he’ll hate it.”

“I thought Charle liked me well enough,” David says.

“You, yes,” says Jack. “Remembering that I had a kid at nineteen? Not so much.”

David chuckles. “I’ve gotten that impression, yeah.”

“He doesn’t want to risk either of us getting hurt like that again,” Jack says. “Unfortunately for Racer, that’s just turned into him scaring off anybody we even look at.”

“Have you been doing a lot of that? Looking?”

Jack glances over at David. “Once in a while.”

David is suddenly aware that they are still holding hands. He doesn’t pull his own back. Neither does Jack.

“It’s not something I’ve mastered,” David admits. “It’s been two years, but I still feel like guilt’s gonna eat me up inside if I let myself – go there, you know?”

Jack hums sympathetically. “Well you don’t have to _go there_. S’nothin’ wrong with being single. N’at least you got Benny. Not gonna lie, I thought the two’a you were a thing for a _while_.”

David lets out a startled laugh at that. “Wait, no, really?”

“He calls you _babe_ , Dave,” Jack says, a little defensive. “You brought him to meet-the-teacher day, and he’s dropped Ben off at my house almost as many times as you have.”

David squeezes Jack’s hand, still laughing. “Okay, okay. I guess it’s not _that_ crazy from an outside perspective. Even Jessie always called _him_ my better half. It’s just – he’s aro-ace, and the idea of _us_ dating is just –“ he snorts. “I’ll tell him you said that, though, he’ll get a kick out of it.”

“Glad I can entertain,” Jack says with a laugh.

“You do.”

“Anyway, like I said, you don’t have to date if you don’t wanna. You’re a good dad on your own. If anybody’s telling you different, I’ll fight’em for ya.”

“No, it’s not – nobody’s pressuring me to or anything,” says David. He finds that he can’t quite look at Jack anymore, his cheeks flushing. “It’s just – I _do_ want to.”

“Oh,” says Jack. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything, but David can feel him fidgeting a little. “Well in that case – not to be cold or anything, but it’s not like Jess knows one way or another what you’re getting up to. If you’re worried about doing wrong by her, or whatever.”

“Oh,” David says softly. It’s completely, _radically_ different to what people usually say – that _she’d want you to be happy, David_ or _she wouldn’t want you to cut yourself off_ – but it’s… oddly comforting.

“Sorry, was that –“

“No,” David says quickly. “No, it’s – good. Thank you.”

“No prob,” says Jack. He squeezes David’s hand gently. “What, it been bothering you? You got a crush on somebody, Jacobs?”

David drops Jack’s hand, but only so he can playfully shove him away by the shoulder. “You sound like my seventh graders.”

“Hey! That’s not a no!”

Before David can respond, Ben runs over. “Dad! Mr. Kelly! Come look’it what Liza n’I found!”

The two of them look at each other for a moment, amused, before following Ben back over to the play structure.

They don’t pick the conversation back up.

\--

“Tell me Ben won’t hate me forever if I say he can’t have a birthday party,” David says, flopping backwards on his bed.

“He won’t hate you,” says Buttons, perched on the edge of the mattress. “Why can’t he, babe?”

“It’s March,” David says flatly. “It’s too wet and cold still to have a picnic, and I don’t want to do, like, Chuck E Cheese or whatever.”

“And hosting here isn’t an option,” Buttons finishes. “Right. Does he _want_ a birthday party?”

“He hasn’t asked,” says David. “But I’m afraid he’s going to, he’s been invited to so many this year and –“

“David, I love you, but you need to chill,” says Buttons. He reaches over, patting David’s knee. “If he hasn’t asked, just offer something else to celebrate before he thinks of it. You’ve been teaching for like five years, buddy, you know how to deal with children.”

David pushes up onto his elbow. “He won’t go for doing something small at home with you and Les.”

“Then we take him up to your parents’ place, or we let him pick one or two friends for a special little adventure,” Buttons suggests. “It can still be special and fun without hosting a full scale birthday party at home, sweetheart.”

David hums. “I just worry so much that he’s going to grow up hating me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Buttons says soothingly. “And _this_ isn’t going to be what changes that.”

“If you say so, Buttons.”

“I do,” says Buttons. He pats David’s knee again. “And by now you should know that I’m always right.”

\--

It’s not that Jack is avoiding Charlie, but he’s also not really seeking him out. Or extending their text conversations just to chat.

So, really, Jack isn’t overly surprised when, about two weeks after the twins’ semi-disastrous birthday party, Charlie shows up at Jack’s door on Friday afternoon. Charlie knows Eliza isn’t home after school on Fridays, and Jack knows coming over now is intentional.

“We’ve got to talk, Jacky,” Charlie says.

Jack nods. He lets Charlie in, and the two of them end up sitting across from each other on Jack’s couch.

Charlie doesn’t speak right away, so Jack waits.

“I sat down with Racer last night,” Charlie finally says. “We – we talked.”

“That’s pro’lly good,” Jack replies.

“Yeah,” Charlie says softly. “He put me right on – well. Lotta things, prob’ly.”

“Like what?” Jack says, because he can’t help himself.

Charlie gives him a wry smile. “Sometimes, Jacky, you’re every bit as annoying as you were when you were five.”

“I’m sorry, is this you apologizing?” Jack says, a little snippily. “Because you’re doing a shit job.”

“I’m getting there, dumbass,” says Charlie.

“Testy.”

“Race said I… come on a little strong, when I’m tryin’a keep the two’a you outta trouble,” Charlie says slowly. “And I’m sorry for that; I never meant for either of you to feel like you couldn’t tell me about your lives because I’d get in the way.” He sighs, his eyebrows pushing together the only real sign of a frown in his expression. “I never meant for _you_ to feel like I don’t trust you with your own child.”

“Don’t you?” Jack asks before he can stop it from spilling out.

“Jack,” says Charlie. “Of course I do.”

“You got a funny way’a showin’ it, Char.”

“I’ve spent twenty-five years trying to protect you, Jacky,” says Charlie. “And Liza – I wish I could’ve protected you from what happened with Mandy. I wish –“

“I don’t regret it,” Jack says. “I don’t regret Liza one tiny bit, Charlie. I don’t even regret Mandy, even though it all went to shit.”

“No, no, Jacky, not Liza,” Charlie says quickly. “I just mean – you got hurt. I’ve spent my whole life tryin’ to keep you from getting hurt, and when it mattered, I was too caught up in my own shit to help you.” He shifts a little on the couch, pulling his good leg up toward his chest. “And I’ve spent the last few years trying to make up for that, only – only the stumbling through is just life, and I can’t protect you from that. I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Sorry you can’t protect me?” Jack clarifies, “or sorry for –“

“Overstepping,” Charlie finishes. “For pushing too far.” He pauses for a long time, picking at the seam of his jeans. It looks like he has something else he wants to say, so Jack waits.

“I don’t know how well you remember,” Charlie says eventually, “but when we first lost mom and dad, I did the same thing. I wouldn’t let you do _anything_ by yourself, just, like, absolutely terrified that something else would go wrong. I felt like I had to protect you from _everything_. It took Mom – Medda – a long time to convince me you’d be okay with a few tears in your life, a few bumps and bruises.”

“I remember,” Jack says softly.

Charlie smiles at him, but it’s the saddest smile Jack’s ever seen on his big brother. “And then everything went to shit with Mandy, and you were fucking _drowning_ and I wasn’t there to protect you. I couldn’t let that happen again. I –“ he falters.

“It’s okay, Char,” says Jack. “It’s okay.”

“I went too far,” finishes Charlie.

“Yeah,” Jack says. “What’cha gonna do about it?”

Charlie shrugs. “Back off. Let you raise Eliza how you want to – and you really are doing great, Jack, I’m sorry I ever let you think otherwise, okay? – and try not to stress too much over who you and Racer date.”

“Thanks,” says Jack. Much as he hates to admit it, Charlie’s approval is really important to him. He _wants_ Charlie to think he’s a good dad, he _wants_ Charlie to like their significant others, he just – he wishes it hadn’t taken so long for them to pull themselves together.

Jack is… mostly confident in his choices as a father. He’s pretty sure he’s doing alright by Eliza. He’s trying his best to do that every damned day.

But Charlie’s constant mother-henning has definitely made it harder to be certain of himself. If _Charlie_ – smart, amazing Charlie who has his life together – thinks Jack isn’t doing a good job, then how can he be?

“This Spot guy,” Charlie says, taking a deep breath and fixing a smile on his face. “Race said you helped set them up.”

“He does dismissal at the school on the day Race picks Bets up,” Jack says, shrugging. “They spent the first coupl’a weeks a’school goin’ all gooey over each other – I don’t think they talked much, but Spot’s not half bad to look at, if you’re into short guys.”

“But he’s – he’s good?”

“I gotta be honest, Char,” says Jack, “I don’t know him that well myself.” Charlie’s face pinches a little bit, like he’s physically restraining himself from saying something. “Chill, Charlie. He’s Davey’s, like, third best friend on the planet after his sort of life partner and his little brother, okay? I trust Dave’s judgement, and Race really likes this guy. He wouldn’t have told you about him if he didn’t.”

“No,” Charlie agrees, “I don’t think he would have.”

“Maybe it won’t work out,” Jack says. “Maybe it’ll go up in flames. We can’t stop that, we just gotta be there for Race if it does. But for what it’s worth, I think the two’a them could stick.”

“I still want to meet him,” says Charlie. He holds up a hand to stop Jack before he can protest. “I won’t scare him off, I just want to know the person who’s got Race so fired up that he finally called me on my bullshit.”

Jack smiles. “Yeah, a’right. I betcha we can make that happen.”

Charlie nods. Then, slowly, he pushes himself up off of the couch. “I better get goin’ – if Al and I aren’t both home when it’s time to make dinner, dinner ain’t gettin’ made. You know how the kids are.”

“I know,” Jack says, laughing. He gets up to walk Charlie to the door.

“I’m sorry, again, for how I’ve been these last few years,” Charlie says, pausing just inside the front door. “If I start pushing too hard again just – say something, would you? It’s a little hard to see on my end.”

Jack nods. “I will, I promise.”

He pulls Charlie into a hug. Charlie returns it one-armed, squeezing Jack tightly.

“I love you,” Charlie murmurs into Jack’s shoulder.

“I love you too, Char.”

When Charlie steps back, there’s an ever-so-slightly mischievous glint in his eye.

“That guy Race said you’re interested in,” Charlie says, “it’s your Davey, isn’t it?”

Jack flushes bright red and tries to choke out a response. _Your Davey._

Charlie laughs. “I thought so. Jacky?”

“ _What_?”

“I say go for it.”

And with that, Charlie leaves.

\--

Jack isn’t entirely certain how _he_ ended up tagging along on Benji Jacobs’s little birthday adventure. Eliza, sure. Eliza was one of the two friends Ben was allowed to invite along, but it’s not like JoJo’s moms are there.

But Davey asked.

So Jack is here.

They’re at the zoo, and Ben is choosing their path, hand-in-hand with JoJo and Eliza. Jack is hanging back with Davey and Benny – he’s been told Les is due to join them later, once they’re done at the zoo and he’s done with his school week – mostly just watching and occasionally reading signs for the kids.

Benny has Davey’s hand tucked into the bend of his elbow as they walk side-by-side.

“You two look like a couple from, like, nineteen hundred,” Jack says. “Who walks like that nowadays?”

“David drifts,” Benny says. “You’ve got to keep him close or he’ll trip over something because he’s got his eyes on Benji and not where he’s going.” He nods firmly, and then continues over David’s embarrassed spluttering, “That’s a pro tip for you.”

“Noted,” Jack says, through his laughter.

“Anyway, we do it like this because he doesn’t like holding hands with me for some reason,” says Benny.

“He has the coldest hands on the planet,” Davey says in a stage whisper. Full-voiced, he adds, “Jessie never liked holding your hand either.”

Benny sticks his tongue out good-naturedly. To Jack, he says, “Jess always drifted too. They were two peas in an always-distracted pod, lemme tell ya. S’a good thing they had me, or they never would’a made it to band practice.”

“Buttons!” Ben calls, and the three adults pause, all looking over. “Can you read this?”

“I don’t know, Bunny, can I?” Benny calls back. “I’ve been practicing, but I don’t know if my reading’s really there yet.”

“But _tons_ ,” Ben groans.

“Yeah, boo, I’ll be there in a sec,” Benny says. He turns his head toward Jack again, tipped to one side the way Jack has started to learn he and Davey both do when they’re thinking. (He wonders idly whether Jess did it, too.) “Hold this.”

And then Benny grabs Jack’s arm by the elbow and moves Davey’s hand from his own arm to Jack’s.

And then he walks away.

Davey looks at his hand, threaded through Jack’s arm, then he looks up at Jack’s face. He’s bright red, his pale complexion betraying him.

They both burst into laughter, Davey’s hand tightening around Jack’s upper arm as he leans on Jack to hold himself up.

“I’m sorry,” Davey says, once he catches his breath. “I can –“

“No, no, it’s fine,” says Jack. He tucks his hand into his pocket, careful not to dislodge Davey’s. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

Davey looks at Jack, those pretty blue eyes wide and his head tipped to the side in thought. “No,” he says finally. “I don’t mind at all.”


	8. April

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The word "paint" and variants appears at least twenty times this chapter. Enjoy!

“Hey, Jackie, is Liza free on Sunday afternoon?”

_“Oh, no, actually. We’re going on a little adventure this weekend, wanna go outta town a bit to paint._ But _if you and Benji wanna join us, I don’t think either’ve us would complain.”_

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“ _Davey. First of all, by halfway through the day Eliza is absolutely gonna be climbin’ the metaphorical walls, so havin’ Benji there would buy me like two extra hours at least. Second of all, I like havin’ you around. You could even paint with me.”_

_“_ Well _that_ would be a mess. You don’t want to see my art, Jackie.”

“ _Sure I do. C’mon, Dave, it’d be fun.”_

“If you’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?”

_“Positive. Meet us at our place at like nine, we can drive out together. Make a little road trip of it, what do you say?”_

“Yeah, alright. I’ll see you then.”

“ _Lookin’ forward to it.”_

\--

It’s not a date.

It’s _not_.

But damn it all if Jack’s not a little stressed. _Why_ did he invite Davey along? He’s gonna be a wreck – not that he’s not always a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to his art, but he wants to impress Davey. Which is kind of dumb. He knows it’s dumb, but he can’t help himself.

“Daddy,” Eliza says reasonably, “why are you walking back and forth?”

“Hmm?” Jack replies, distracted. “Oh. I’m just trying to get my legs moving a bit before we sit for a while in the car.” He is lying, and Eliza gives him a frown that reminds him so much of Charlie that he almost spills the truth right then and there. _I have a crush on Benji’s daddy and I’m nervous to share something I love so much with him because what if he hates it and by extension decides he hates me_ is a little much for his six-year-old at eight in the morning, though.

“O _kay_ ,” says Eliza, still bearing entirely too much resemblance to her uncle for Jack’s taste. She looks like Jack, Jack’s been told, but she’s got these expressions that are _all_ Charlie. “Should I walk back and forth too?”

“Do you think your little legs are gonna get restless in the car?”

Eliza skitters over to him, putting a hand out in front of him to stop his pacing. “ _Daddy_. I am six years old. I don’t have _little legs_. I’m big now.”

Jack scoops her up, laughing. “Oh, you’re big now?”

“Put me _dooooown_!” Eliza whines, trying to wriggle free.

“I don’t know, baby bear, you still seem pretty little to me,” says Jack. He tickles her side and regrets it immediately because it increases the wiggling tenfold.

The doorbell rings, and Eliza twists out of Jack’s hold, landing on her feet on the ground and running, giggling, to the front door.

Jack follows, swallowing his nerves as best he can. He’s glad to see that Eliza has waited for him to get the door – she’s usually so excited that she tries to open it herself, but Jack doesn’t like her getting the door without him, just in case the person there _isn’t_ who they’re expecting.

This time it is, though, and Jack opens the door to the two Jacobses standing side-by-side. Ben is in his usual play clothes, but Davey –

It occurs to Jack, suddenly, that he’s never actually seen Davey in a t-shirt before. The man _lives_ in button-downs and soft sweaters, always looking put together and perfect. And yet here he stands, hands tucked into his pockets, dressed in a faded green _Menken School of Music_ t-shirt and worn, comfortable looking jeans.

“Hey,” Jack says when he finds his voice. “Right on time.”

“I am nothing if not punctual,” says Davey, an amused spark in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m calling BS,” Jack replies, laughing. “Benji, you were probably watchin’ the clock all morning, weren’cha?”

“I _was_ ,” says Benji. He rolls his eyes. “Dad’s _always_ late.”

“Way to throw me under the bus, buddy,” says Davey.

“You guys wanna come in for a sec?” Jack asks. “I just gotta grab the art supplies before we go.”

“Sure,” Davey replies. Jack walks back down the hall, scooping up his bag. When he returns, he finds the kids deep in a conversation about starfish, and Davey staring at the paintings on the wall.

“You ready?”

“Hmm?” says Davey, tearing his gaze away from the art. “Yeah. Kids?”

“Let’s _go!”_ Eliza says, tugging Benji by the hand toward the door.

And so their morning begins.

The drive quickly turns into something of a Disney singalong, and Jack can’t help marveling at Davey’s voice. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised – not that Davey is a strong singer and not that Davey has no qualms singing along – since the man is literally a music teacher, but the handful of times Jack has heard it, Davey’s singing voice has caught him off guard.

Davey sings in the comfortable way that people who are good singers sing – completely unselfconscious, not hushed or hiding. He looks over at Jack from the passenger’s seat, grinning. It sets something warm glowing in Jack’s chest, and he can’t help grinning back.

The kids are singing along too, a little messier but no less enthusiastic.

They reach their destination in what feels like no time. It’s a quiet spot in nature, a little ways out of the city. Jack’s been here plenty of times before; sometimes he paints these trees and his favorite overlook, but other times he just paints whatever feels right in a place that’s not his house.

Davey helps him set up – here meaning that Jack hands him things and directs him where to put them – and they get the kids settled before Jack hands him his own little palette of paints and a brush.

“I am starting to regret agreeing to this,” Davey says, surveying the intimidating blankness of his untouched canvas board.

Jack laughs. “You just gotta put somethin’ on it. It’ll be less scary once you start.”

“That’s easy for _you_ to say,” says Davey. He elbows Jack. “You’ve had a lot more practice at this than me, you know.”

“Dunno,” says Jack, nodding toward Benji and Eliza, who have both launched into their own projects without hesitation, “they seem to be managing.”

Davey laughs. “Kids are good at that kind of thing.”

“You just gotta _start_ ,” Jack says again. On instinct, he takes Davey’s hand by the wrist, guiding his brush to the paint and then back to his easel. The mark they make – which Jack meant to be a tree trunk – is a little haphazard, but it’s _something._ “See, there you go. Easy.”

Davey isn’t looking at the canvas anymore, though. His blue eyes are wide, his head turned over his shoulder to look at Jack.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Thanks.”

\--

David’s heart is _racing_. It’s such a dumb thing to get worked up over, he’s held Jack’s hand for fucking _hours_ before, this is nothing. This is nothing!

And yet here David stands, breathless and flustered, with Jack’s hand loosely gripping his wrist. Staring.

Jack, for his part, is staring back.

“Dad!” Eliza’s bright little voice cuts in. “You din’t give us a green!”

“Didn’t,” Jack corrects idly. He doesn’t look away from David. “We ran out of the green in your paint, baby, remember? A certain pair of someones spilled half the bottle a few months ago.”

“Oh,” says Eliza. Ben kicks a rock, trying to play nonchalant.

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” says Jack, finally turning to look at the kids. “But you know how to make green, don’cha, Bets?”

“Blue and _yellow_ ,” Eliza recites.

“Right,” Jack answers. “Why don’t you get on that? I’ll help you if you need it, but I think you got it, baby girl.”

“I _got_ it,” says Eliza.

Jack finally fully steps away from David, then, toward his own easel. David can’t help being a little disappointed at the loss of contact.

And, okay. Here’s the thing.

David agreed to come along and try to paint – and he _is_ trying – but he’s mostly here to watch Jack and the kids paint. Both are fascinating, though for very different reasons. Ben and Eliza are just having _fun_ , making a bit of a mess, occasionally getting distracted by starting little paintbrush swordfights. But Jack –

David knew, somewhat abstractly, that Jack is an artist. But knowing that and seeing him in action are two very, very different things.

Jack is clearly in the zone, focused but oddly distant. He’s still in tune with what’s going on enough to be engaged with the kids and play along with David’s occasional teasing, but all the while a stunning landscape is coming together on his canvas and David is _transfixed_.

At some point, Ben and Eliza gave up on brushes, now smearing paint across their pages with their fingers. It’s going to be a mess later, but for now it makes David’s heart sing with how sweet it is to watch.

David himself has managed a passable sky with some atrocious trees, so far. Jack leans over, bumping his shoulder against David’s.

“See, that’s pretty alright,” he says, that sweet lopsided grin on his face. David laughs.

“Oh, no, it’s terrible,” David replies. “You can’t even compliment it, can you! _Pretty alright_.”

“No, no, Davey!” Jack protests, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “It’s good, I promise.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, sweetheart, I _know_ it’s a mess,” says David, the endearment rolling off his tongue before he can stop it.

Jack blinks at him, stunned. “No, I – Davey? No.”

“No, got it,” David says.

“It’s comin’ together,” Jack says, seeming to figure out how his mouth works again. “You just gotta – trees.”

Maybe David thought that _figuring out how his mouth works_ thing too soon.

“I just gotta trees?” David echoes, his tone teasing.

Jack shoves him.

David shoves Jack back.

“For real, Jack, it’s awful and we both know it,” says David. “It’s okay. I’m really here to watch you and the kids paint, and yours is freakin’ amazing.”

Jack flushes, looking away. “It’s just –“

“Don’t you dare,” David cuts in. “Don’t you dare say it’s _just a buncha trees_ or whatever you were going to try to shrug this off with. You’re really, really talented, Jack.” He pauses, tipping his head to one side. “Why isn’t this what you do?”

“What, art?” Jack says. “Lotsa reasons.” He nods silently toward Eliza, “for one. For another – I mean, it was never what I was gonna do, you know? S’not _sustainable_. Least not the kinda art I usually do, y’know?”

“Right, you majored in journalism, right?”

Jack makes a little sound at the back of his throat that’s almost a laugh. “Yeah, for a while. I switched out after Mandy was outta the picture – it was this crazy competitive, intense program, and that was _not_ happening with a baby, not by myself. My degree is in English.”

“Oh,” says David.

“That’s not how Uncle Race tells it,” Eliza pipes in.

“What?” Jack and David say in unison.

“About Momma,” says Eliza, her paint smeared arms crossed. “He always says you switched majors ‘fore she went away. And that Momma was a selfish bitch who always made you make all the sacrifices for our family.”

“Elizabeth Jane Kelly!” says Jack, startled.

Eliza rolls her eyes. “I know it’s a bad word, Daddy. But that’s what Race said.”

“To _you_?”

“No,” Eliza says with a huffy laugh. “To Uncle Albert. I just heard him.”

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s not a nice thing to say, Eliza. Please don’t repeat it.”

“I think it’s pro’lly true,” says Eliza. Jack makes a choked noise. “You always make it seem like Momma was real nice, and you two decided together that you were gonna take care’a me by yourself, Daddy, but you always get that pinchy face you do when you lie.”

Jack’s eyebrows push together, his nose crinkling up a little. “Lizzie –“

“Oh! Like that!”

Jack looks at David, and David can’t tell if he’s looking for a rescue or he’s just upset that David is hearing this, but there’s clear anxiety in his expression.

“So you weren’t doing art to begin with,” David says, picking up the original thread of their conversation. Clearly this isn’t what Jack wants to be talking about, especially not with Eliza right here.

Jack’s shoulders sag with relief. “Oh, yeah. No. It’s always been a hobby.”

“You’re – Jack,” David says.

“Correct,” Jack says, that lopsided grin finding its way back onto his face. “And you’re Davey.”

“Technically, I’m David,” David points out. “I just mean – Jack, you’re really good at this. Every time I see one of your pieces I’m just, like, blown away.”

Jack flushes. “Ain’t that big a deal, Davey.”

David shakes his head. “Thank you for inviting us along today, Jackie. Even if my painting’s shit –“

“ _Dad_ ,” Ben says, scandalized.

“-Awful,” David corrects without missing a beat, “I’ve had a lot of fun today and I think Ben has, too. Haven’t you, Benny-bunny?”

Ben scrunches his nose in distaste at the nickname, but nods. “So much fun.”

“Well, I’m glad you and Ben could make it,” says Jack. “S’been nice to have a pal here, and Ben and Liza’ve been keepin’ each other entertained, too. It’s a win-win.”

David laughs, and the two of them both return to their painting – David taking plenty of _watch Jack paint_ breaks. He can’t help it.

There’s just something so –

So –

Jack is good at this. He’s a talented artist, he’s had a lot of practice, he’s _good_ at painting. He knows what he’s doing.

And there’s always a sort of mesmerizing quality to watching someone do something they’re really good at. It’s the same as watching Sarah explain her complicated physics problems or watching Les skate or watching Buttons teach.

It’s the same, except it’s _more_ because it’s _Jack._

(It’s dizzying in the same way watching Jess play sometimes was, and David isn’t sure if that’s because of the talent thing or just because Jack does that to him all on his own. David never did figure it out with Jess either.)

In the end, Jack has a beautiful, perfect landscape on his canvas. David is honestly a little bit surprised by how well the kids’ paintings turned out – little echoes of Jack’s serene sky and forest scene, made up of smudges and small fingerprints.

David’s is a hot mess, but they’re not going to talk about that.

“You’ve got to sign it, Davey,” Jack says, bumping his hip against David’s and throwing him off balance. “Me and Liza and Benji all did.”

“Yeah, but yours are good,” David points out. “I’m not sure I want my name connected with this.”

“Hey, not cool,” says Jack. “That’s my friend’s painting you’re talkin’ down about.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Let’s ask the art critics, huh?” Jack says. “Benjamin, Elizabeth – is Mr. Jacobs’s painting good?”

“It’s _so_ good, Dad,” Ben says, his hands on his hips. His entire right arm is blue and his hands are a smeared, splattered mess. Bath time is going to be an adventure tonight.

“For sure!” Eliza cheers.

“The kiddos have spoken, Davey,” says Jack, smiling. “You gotta sign it. Hey – how’s about we exchange, huh? I’ll hold onto yours, you can have mine. As a – a souvenir.”

“You’re really coming out behind there, Jack.”

“What’d I say, Davey?”

David snorts. “You’re welcome to it if you want it, but I really don’t see why you would.”

“’Cause _you_ made it, Dave,” Jack says softly. “You came out into the middle’a nowhere with me an’ my kid to paint even though it ain’t your thing, and you spent the day sharin’ somethin’ I love. Means a lot to me, even if it’s not the technical best.”

_Oh_.

David opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to fight back the rush of affection washing over him.

“I – oh,” David says, failing to get control of his mouth in time to start making words again. “Alright.”

He takes the little brush Jack’s offering and scrawls his name hastily in the lower right hand corner.

Jack beams.

They pile back into the car and head for home not long later, art supplies tucked away and paintings rigged up on a drying rack in the trunk that Jack assures David _usually gets’em home alright_. David laughs when Jack says that, warm and affectionate, and Jack grins back. It sends another flutter through David.

It’s late that night, as David stares across his living room at the Jack Kelly original painting propped against his wall waiting to be hung, that it occurs to him that he hasn’t felt like this in a very long time.

It’s terrifying.

\--

Jack sets Davey’s painting aside in his bedroom to hang up later, but his eye keeps drifting over to it as he lays in bed trying to convince his brain to chill enough to let him sleep.

For all that Davey goes along with Jack’s nickname for him – has even reciprocated with a nickname of his own for Jack – he doesn’t use it himself. Even when he refers to himself in conversation with Jack, he calls himself David.

And yet there in sky blue paint in the corner of his canvas are five letters that belong only to their friendship. He’d signed the painting _Davey_.

Jack doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t even have the faintest inkling. But he also doesn’t know what possessed him to ask Davey for the painting in the first place. Nothing he’d said about it wasn’t true, it was just a _lot_.

Davey seems to draw that out in him, though. The part that _says_ what he’s thinking and doesn’t freak out about it until later, the part that wants to be mushy and sappy and maybe a little romantic.

Maybe.

The longer Jack knows Davey, the better his chances feel. Maybe not now, maybe not even soon, but there’s something promising about the way Davey looks at him. The way his gaze had softened when Jack explained why he wanted to hold onto Davey’s painting, the unrestrained way he lets himself laugh when they’re together, even the sweet way he handles Eliza.

And he signed the painting Davey.

Not David, Davey. Jack’s name for him.

Jack sighs, rolling over and closing his eyes. Maybe he’s deluding himself, but he could really see this going somewhere.


	9. May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are!! I hope this is satisfying. I've had a lot of fun writing this fic and I'm so glad to have seen so much enthusiasm from my readers, too!
> 
> If there's anything you're dying to know about that didn't make it into the fic, feel free to give me a shout on tumblr @agentsnickers!

David has spent most of the last year flip-flopping. He feels on the edge of something – he’s felt on the edge of something for a while, teetering and precarious.

He likes Jack.

He really likes Jack, actually. He likes spending time with him, likes the way he makes David laugh, likes watching him with the kids. Every time he looks at the paintings across the room (Jack’s and Ben’s from their little adventure a few weeks ago) it sends a little thrill up his spine.

But at the same time, it feels almost impossible to wrap his head around. Falling for someone again, taking the risk of –

Of –

“Benny,” David says hoarsely, “do you think I’m being stupid?”

“Not usually,” says Buttons. “Why do you ask?”

David pinches the bridge of his nose, curling forward over his folded legs. “I don’t – this Jack thing.”

“Oh,” Buttons replies. “Stupid, no. Dumb, yes.”

“Those are synonyms,” says David.

Buttons kicks him. “Shut up. Before all this, Jess was like, one and only, yeah?”

“I liked _you_ first, actually,” David reminds him. He looks up, trying a smile. It comes out a little awkward. “But yeah. Just her.”

“Well, obviously,” says Buttons, “I’m perfect. My point, though, is that it has been a long ass time since you last fell for someone, and the last time – it ended rough.” He goes quiet for a moment. “It’s not stupid to feel overwhelmed, or even to worry about losing someone else like you lost her. That’s life.”

“But?” David prompts when Buttons doesn’t continue right away.

“But it’s dumb as hell to let that hold you back,” Buttons says, throwing a pillow at him. “Do you like him, David? Honest-to-God, honest-to-Jess, do you like him?”

“I do,” David replies softly. “Do you think – I mean, is that wrong? It’s only been two years.”

“If two years is what you needed, then two years is what you needed,” says Buttons. “If anybody tries to tell you different I will fucking fight them, do you hear me? And Jess would haunt them for it, you know she would.”

“Ben –“

“No, shut up, I’m right,” Buttons tells him. “I know you hate when people tell you what Jess would want or feel or whatever but I’m _telling you_ , she would haunt the shit outta anybody who gave you shit for moving on with your life. You’re not a goddamn Victorian widow, David, you don’t have to be in mourning forever. Sometimes it’ll be harder than other times, and that’s – you just have to roll with that as it comes.” He kicks David again. “But if you want this, David? If you want Jack, want to let yourself do this again? Don’t let your fear trip you up.”

“I don’t think it’s that straightforward,” says David.

“No, probably not,” says Buttons. “But if you do trip, you know you’ve got people here to catch you, right?”

“I know,” says David. He picks at the knee of his jeans. It’s tearing through. “Ben, what if I lose him, too?”

“Then I move into your house and we figure it out together,” Buttons tells him. “I wish I could promise it won’t happen, babe, but I _can_ promise that you wouldn’t be alone if it did.”

\--

“I’m not going to be late, Charlie,” Jack says, his phone pinned between his shoulder and his cheek, “when’s the last time I was late for anything?”

_“You literally slept through church this week,”_ Charlie says long sufferingly.

“Nine AM on a Sunday, Char, it’s a God-given miracle I don’t miss more,” says Jack. Charlie laughs. “For real, this has been on the calendar for nine months, I’m gonna be there. Arranged everything at work and everything.”

Today is the end-of-year picnic for the kindergarten, which is a parents-welcome event. Jack and Charlie are driving to the school together.

“ _I know, I know,”_ says Charlie. “ _You’d never let something like this slip through the cracks. I just worry because outside of fatherhood you’re a disaster.”_

“I don’t know how to take that.”

“ _I was complimenting your parenting.”_

Jack scoffs. “And insulting my everything else!”

“ _I would never_ ,” Charlie teases. “ _Alright, I’ve got to get this wrapped up before I disappear for the day; see you at eleven?”_

“Ten fifty-five,” says Jack. “Love you.”

“ _Love you too, Jacky.”_

When they get to the school, they’re directed to the big playground, where a few other parents are already setting up little games and activities.

Jack can’t deny the way his heart skips when Davey turns around, dark curls flopping into his face, a smile brightening his face when his eyes meet Jack’s.

“Jackie!” he calls, waving Jack and Charlie over.

“Heya, Davey,” Jack replies. Charlie snorts, which must mean Jack sounds ridiculously gooey. Jack elbows his brother.

“Hi, Dave,” Charlie says once he and Jack are a little closer to Davey. “How’s it goin’?”

“I am losing a fight with this plastic tablecloth but otherwise not bad,” says Davey. “The wind is not on my side. You wanna lend a hand?” The last part is mostly directed to Jack, a hopeful little smile on his face.

“For you? Always,” says Jack. He doesn’t really mean to say it, and he flushes bright red when he hears it tumble out of his mouth.

Charlie looks like he’s fighting a strong urge to laugh, biting down on the inside of his lip. “I’m gonna go see if they need help with the games, you two don’t go startin’ any trouble while I’m gone.”

“What’re we gonna get up to, huh?” says Jack. “This is Davey’s school.”

“Yeah, Mr. Denton would probably not be happy with me if we made a mess of the playground,” Davey adds.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Charlie. “Be good, boys.”

“It’s good to see you, Jack,” says Davey.

“You saw me last week,” Jack reminds him, but he’s happy all the same.

“What, I can’t be happy to see you if I saw you last week?” Davey asks, mock offended. “Some best friend you are.”

“I’m your best friend?” Jack asks, stunned.

Davey laughs. “You’re on the list. You might even be ahead of Spot.”

Something warm sparks in Jack’s chest. “Still miles behind Benny, I’m sure.”

“Oh, thousands,” says Davey. His smile softens, though, and the warm feeling in Jack’s chest flares brighter. “But you’re not half bad.”

The kids are outside before Jack really has a chance to respond, a flood of sound and energy washing away any other conversations that might be going on. Eliza runs to Jack and grabs him by the hand, pulling him over to talk to someone, while Benji grabs David to ask him something.

Jack looks back over his shoulder at Davey, deep in conversation with Benji. Davey looks up at just the right moment to catch Jack’s eye. Jack smiles reflexively, his heart speeding up a little when Davey returns it. Davey looks back at Benji just a moment later, but the warm smile is still on his face. Jack bites his lip, trying to reign in his own goofy grin.

_God, I love that man._

Oh, that’s –

That’s new.

\--

On instinct, David looks up from his conversation with Ben. He finds Jack across the crowd of kids and parents, only to find that Jack is already looking at him.

Jack smiles.

David smiles back then ducks his head, returning his attention to Ben.

There’s a flutter in his chest that he’s getting better at not just pretending doesn’t exist, a warmth that comes from being around Jack, from seeing him with the kids, from the easy way their friendship had fallen into place.

Ben scurries off, more interested in playing with his friends than talking to his dad, and Charlie DaSilva takes the opportunity to walk over to where David is standing against the fence.

“Hey, Dave, you got a minute?”

David shrugs. “Sure.”

“You like my little brother, yeah?” Charlie asks. The hand not resting on his cane is tucked casually into his pocket. There’s nothing remotely confrontational about his posture, and still David feels himself draw up, tense.

“Why do you ask?” says David.

Charlie sighs, glancing toward Jack. “Not to give you trouble, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” He shifts his weight a little, readjusting. “He likes you a lot, David.”

Oh.

“You think?” David asks, and it comes out a little bit shaky.

“It’s not hard to see, when you’re looking for it. I’m a little surprised that you _aren’t_ looking for it,” says Charlie.

“I – it’s complicated,” says David.

“Right,” says Charlie, nodding. “Right, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to suggest that you should be – just that you and Jack have gotten close, and it seems like that could be going somewhere. You’re on no one’s timeline but your own, David. All I wanted to say is this: if you’re not going to pursue him, tell him that. Jack values your friendship a lot, and he deserves to know where the two of you stand.”

“And if I am?” David says softly.

“Then take your time, if that’s what you need,” says Charlie. He smiles, a little crooked. It’s a shockingly familiar smile, for how little time David has spent with Charlie DaSilva, and David is suddenly struck by how very much Jack looks like his brother. “He’ll wait for you.”

“Oh,” says David.

Charlie chuckles. “One more thing, though, Dave.”

“Don’t break his heart?”

“I don’t think you’re going to,” says Charlie. “No, just don’t let him lie to you, okay? Jack holds everything as bottled up as he can, and he’s really good at faking being alright. He’s never had anything really serious – some of that’s on me, unfortunately, some of it’s on Mandy. Some of it’s just Jack resisting the ever living hell out of opening up to anybody. If the two of you are going to last at all, you’ve got to push through that.”

David nods. “Yeah, I – yeah.”

“Something tells me you’re already getting the hang of that, though,” says Charlie. “Be good to him, okay? Please.”

“I will,” says David.

Charlie nods. “I think Hunter’s looking for me, so I’m gonna go see what’s up. Good talking to you, David.”

“You too, Charlie,” David replies, a little distant.

Charlie walks away, leaving David alone by the fence.

His eyes drift over toward where Jack is – he’s kneeling to talk with Liza and Ben both, smiling fondly as the children talk enthusiastically.

And then it hits him. Really hits him, for the first time.

He loves Jack Kelly. It snuck up on him, between museum trips and playdates and grief. He loves Jack, he loves Eliza, he loves how happy Ben is to be with them, how right it feels for the four of them to be together.

He’d known he _liked_ Jack, in a maybe probably romantic way, but this?

It’s unfathomable. It’s crazy. He’s still figuring out his post-Jessie life, still managing being a parent, still sometimes so blindingly afraid that he’ll lose someone else that he can’t breathe -

And yet.

And _yet_.

David looks across the playground at Jack and Eliza and Ben and he _wants_.

He wants afternoon adventures and easy smiles.

He wants hugs and laughter and finger painted skies.

He wants it all so much his heart aches, but the idea of reaching out and taking it makes him feel like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff looking down.

_Don’t let your fear trip you up_ , he hears Buttons say in the back of his head. _You have people who will catch you._

_Shut up_ , David says to imaginary Buttons, _let me have my crisis in peace._

_No, fuck you,_ says imaginary Buttons. _Let yourself be fucking happy, David._

And the thing is, mixed in with the fear and the worry is this little spark of happiness and hope that’s pushing David foreward.

Jack glances up, his eyes meeting David’s, and he smiles that sweet, lopsided smile of his and does a little head jerk as if to say _hey, Davey, c’mere_.

David takes a breath.

He crosses the playground to join Jack and their kids.

\--

The picnic lasts the whole afternoon, and Jack spends most of it shoulder-to-shoulder with Davey, laughing over the kids’ antics and getting dragged around to meet their friends and teachers and –

“I already know Mr. Shipton, remember?” Davey says, amused. “We work together.”

“You teach big kids, though?” Eliza says, her head tipped curiously to one side. “How come you know our kindergarten teacher?”

“I know all the teachers,” says Davey.

“ _All_ of ‘em?”

“All of them.”

“Even the kindergarten ones?”

“Even the kindergarten ones. And the first and second and third and fourth grade ones, too.”

“Wow,” says Eliza. “That’s so many.”

“It’s so annoying,” says Benji.

Jack laughs. “Hey, it’s not so bad, Ben. You get to see your dad and Buttons all the time. I think that’s pretty cool.”

“You would,” Benji says, rolling his eyes. Eliza giggles.

“What’s that supposed to mean, sassy pants?” says Jack.

Benji and Eliza exchange glances, then both turn back to Jack looking up at him like he’s just said something very, very silly.

Eliza pats Jack’s forearm. “We know you have a crush on Mr. Jacobs, Daddy.”

Over Jack’s choked splutter, Benji adds, “ _’Course_ you think it’d be cool to see him all the time.”

Jack finds he can’t quite meet Davey’s eye, his cheeks warm. Davey is chuckling, but it doesn’t feel malicious; the kids are being cute and funny, of course he’s laughing. He isn’t laughing at Jack.

Davey pats his shoulder, and Jack draws enough courage up to glance over at his face. He’s smiling, unconcealed amusement sparkling in his blue-grey eyes. The spring breeze is blowing his curls out of place, fluffed up and wild.

It’s not fair that he gets to look this pretty when he’s amused at Jack’s expense.

Jack can’t quite bring himself to mind, though.

(He _does_ mind when he sees Charlie watching the four of them in the corner of his eye, looking on the verge of a laughing fit. He must’ve heard what the kids said.)

At the end of the day, Davey catches Jack by the hand and pulls him aside. Benji and Eliza don’t seem to notice, deep in an argument with the DaSilva twins about mittens.

“Jackie, do you have a second?”

“For you, yes.”

Davey laughs softly. “Alright.”

“What’s up?” Jack asks, a little nervous.

“Jack,” Davey says. He pauses, tipping his head to one side the way he often does when he’s trying to decide what to say. He takes a slow breath before continuing. “Do you want to go out with me sometime?”

“How do you mean?” Jack says slowly.

“On a – a date,” Davey says. “No kids, just you and me.”

“Oh,” says Jack. His heart is racing.

“If I’ve read all of this completely wrong, I’m sorry,” says Davey. He tucks one hand into his pocket, the other combing anxiously through his hair. It leaves the curls even more fluffy and mussed than before. “I know better than to take the kids’ word as fact, but I’ve gotten the impression that you – and Charlie and Buttons both think–“

“Davey,” Jack cuts in, putting a hand on Davey’s arm, “yes. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Oh,” says Davey. He sounds a little bit shaky. “Good, that’s great.”

“I really like you, Davey,” Jack tells him. _I love you_ , he doesn’t say, but there will be time for that later. “I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone I liked as much as I like you.”

“I really like you, too,” Davey replies. He takes another slow breath, like he’s trying to steady himself. “Jack, I can’t promise this is going to come easily.”

“That’s okay,” says Jack. He squeezes Davey’s arm. “I’m in no rush, David. If we stay how we are now forever, that’s fine by me. But if you want me, I’m yours.”

“I do,” Davey says sincerely. “I do want you, Jack, I just – it’s going to be slow going. I need you to understand that going in.”

Jack nods. “Davey, it’s okay. You’re okay. Are you sure this is something you want?”

“ _This_ , I’m sure of,” says Davey. His opposite hand comes up to where Jack is still holding onto his upper arm. “You. You, I’m sure of.”

“Oh,” says Jack. He’s feeling a little lightheaded. “I’m sure of you, too.”

Davey smiles, soft and sweet. “Cool. So, date?”

“Date,” Jack agrees. “Friday?”

“It’s Spot’s birthday Friday, we’re going out for drinks,” says Davey, shaking his head. “You’re welcome for that, if you want, I think Race is coming. But I’d really like to spend some time just with you – Saturday?”

“Saturday,” Jack echoes. “I can do Saturday.”

\--

Saturday comes, and David is regretting the spur-of-the-moment decision to ask Jack out a little bit. Not because he doesn’t want to go so much as because he’s suddenly very aware that it’s been something like ten years since the last time he went on a first date.

“You’ll be fine,” Buttons says, shoving David out the door. “Have fun, make wise choices.”

“Thanks,” David calls over his shoulder.

So now he’s standing at Jack’s front door, where he’s stood a hundred times before, and even though it’s familiar this is totally new territory.

Race answers the door when David finally gets his nerve up enough to ring the bell. The top half of his hair is pulled back into a fluffy little ponytail, a little off-center. David wonders if Eliza did it for him. “Heya, Daves. Jack’s almost ready, he’s just panicking over shirt colors. Do you have a preference or should we just let him suffer?”

David laughs, tension releasing a little. He calls up the stairs. “Blue!”

There’s a crash and a thud, like Jack has maybe tripped and fallen over something.

“You okay up there, Jackie?” David calls. “I don’t want to start this date at the ER if we don’t have to.”

Jack’s head pops around the bannister, followed quickly by the rest of his body. He’s buttoning his shirt as he comes down the stairs, one side already tucked in but the other hanging loose.

“I’m good,” says Jack. “I’m cool. Davey, hi.”

“Hi, Jack.”

“You two have fun now,” Race says. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That’s not a long list,” Jack says, rolling his eyes. “Remember, bedtime is –“

“Seven-thirty, I know,” Race finishes. “Have _fun_ , don’t worry about Betsy. I’ve got her, okay?”

“Okay,” says Jack. “See you later. Love you.”

“Love you too, Jacky, now get _going_.”

Race shoves Jack toward David, who catches him with a laugh.

They go out for dinner, which is nice.

Jack takes David to his favorite local ice cream shop for dessert, which is nicer.

David threads their fingers together while they walk, his hand warm against Jack’s, and Jack leans into him so they’re walking shoulder-to-shoulder, which is nicest.

It’s late, and they’re meandering back toward Jack’s front door.

“I’d love to do this again sometime,” Jack says, “if you want to?”

“I’d like that very much,” says David. He squeezes Jack’s hand.

Jack squeezes back. “I’m really glad I met you, Davey. I’m glad Liza and Ben hit it off so well, I’m glad Racer started crushin’ on your teacher friend, I’m glad you didn’t run screaming when you came along on a painting day and saw how I get when I’m in the zone.” He blushes, ducking his head a little.

“I think that was the day that I realized how much I like you outweighs how much getting involved with someone again scares me,” David admits.

Jack’s head snaps back up, his eyes meeting David’s. “Really?”

“You are so fucking talented, Jackie,” says David. “And you decided to share something special to you and Eliza with me and Ben. Oh, sweetheart, of _course_ that was the day.”

“I have your painting from that day up in the hall upstairs,” Jack says softly. “Every time I look at it, I just remember how much I lo – like you. How much fun that day was. I’d love to have a thousand more like it.”

“How about one, and we’ll go from there?” David suggests.

Jack lights up. “I’d like that an awful lot.”

“I would, too.”

They’re standing on Jack’s doorstep, now.

“Hey, Davey?” Jack says, his tone hopeful. “Shoot me down if this is – is too soon, too fast, but – can I kiss you goodnight?”

“Oh,” says David. His heart skips, and he’s feeling a little breathless. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

Jack smiles softly, still a little lopsided, and then presses up onto his toes to give David the gentlest kiss he’s ever had.

He rocks back onto his heels. “G’night, Davey.”

“Good night, Jack,” David says.

There’s a bounce in his step as he walks back to his car.

This feels like the start of something really, really great.


End file.
